Incomplete Life
by AlanSchezar
Summary: Wrath has a chance encounter that profoundly changes the course of his incomplete life. What if that one choice that changed everything were made differently? Is there more to the measure of a man than the substance of his flesh and blood? Drama/Romance
1. Chapter 1

**Incomplete Life**

He sighed and leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree, his feet dangling lazily on either side of the broad limb. He'd been there all afternoon, perched high above the grassy, windswept plain of Risembool's outskirts, lost in meandering contemplation. Reaching up with his right hand, he spread his fingers against the azure sky; the steel shell of his automail blazed orange, reflecting the warm hue of the setting sun and shimmering with flecks of fire in the afternoon light. How bitterly ironic, he thought, that after the human limbs he acquired from Edward Elric were mercilessly ripped off and taken back into The Gate, he should be fitted with automail designed and built for the same young alchemist. Wrath had once believed that he could become human by taking all the humanity Edward possessed, piece by piece, but now he wondered if perhaps the Fullmetal Alchemist had taken the place that had been meant for him in Izumi Curtis' life and instead his fate was to live forever in Edward Elric's shadow.

"Wrath…?"

The young homunculus blinked away a tear and looked down to the ground far below as Alphonse Elric's gentle voice jolted him from his melancholy musings.

"I thought I might find you here…" Al continued, straining to look up into the high branches where Wrath lounged, "There's something I need to ask you…"

Wrath stared at Al for a moment as a cool breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak and played in the sable strands of his hair. He smiled to himself in amusement that the powerful, menacing suit of hollow armour that he had known before had in fact been the vessel carrying the soul of such a soft spoken and ordinary seeming young man. With a resigned shrug, Wrath leaned over and let himself slip off the limb, plummeting toward the grass below.

Al gave a yelp of surprise and jumped back, half expecting Wrath to land on him in a tangled heap, but the homunculus twisted effortlessly in mid fall and landed gracefully on all fours like a nimble housecat. Rising to his feet, Wrath smiled humourlessly at Al from behind the wild black hair framing his face. Al thought he looked intimidating, a lot like Izumi when she smiled that way, but he quickly pushed that thought from his mind.

"What can I do for you, Alphonse?"

"You know the way to the underground city, right? The one Rose mentioned?"

Wrath nodded, his dark eyes probing Al curiously now.

"I think I know what I need to do to bring brother back, and I need to go there to do it."

Wrath was shocked, though his face betrayed little emotion; was the fool planning to sacrifice himself again, even after his brother did the very same? It seemed too cruel, too farcical to be true, and yet he had an overwhelming feeling that it must be what Al had in mind.

"Listen, Wrath, I know you don't owe me a thing, and there's probably nothing you want that I can offer in exchange…" Al looked pensive as Wrath watched him, his eyes downcast, his arms hanging limply by his sides.

"I'll take you there." Wrath interjected curtly, cutting Al's sentence short.

Al was taken aback; he hadn't expected that response at all, "Bu..but you really don't have to go, I just need you to tell me how to get there…"

"I said I will take you there!" Wrath snarled, bearing his pointed teeth slightly.

"Okay…" Al conceded, surprised by Wrath's adamant reaction. He watched as the dark haired homunculus strode past him and wandered off onto the shimmering plain.

Several hours later, the full moon hung high in the night sky as Winry sat at the kitchen table sipping on a mug of hot chocolate. Al had returned hours ago, saying nothing of what he'd wanted so urgently to talk to Wrath about. The only thing he ventured was that Wrath would be back sometime later.

She grumbled to herself in annoyance. What the hell was she doing waiting up for him? Not like there was anything in quiet Risembool that a homunculus like him needed to worry about. She shrugged and smiled to herself, taking another sip of hot chocolate as she resigned herself to waiting until he returned.

Just then, the front door swung open and Wrath stepped inside. He stopped short and glanced at her abruptly, startled to see her waiting at the table. He found himself unwilling or unable to look away; she was sitting in one of the wooden chairs, leaning back with her hand wrapped around the warm mug sitting on the tabletop, her golden hair falling freely around her shoulders and shimmering in the pale moonlight that flooded through the front windows. She was wearing an old white collared shirt, the first three buttons left undone to reveal just a glimpse of soft, supple skin, and a pair of Ed's boxers that he'd forgotten on his last visit. Below that, her curvaceous legs and delicate feet were bare, her radiant skin glowing in the moonlight.

Something stirred in Wrath as he stood transfixed by her, something he'd never felt before. He found himself studying with admiration every feature of her face, every line and curve of her skin. She was breathtakingly beautiful in a way that made his heart ache just a little, if it could be said he had one.

"Nothing to say for yourself? Been waiting here for you all night, y'know!" she said peevishly, breaking the silence.

Wrath shook his head, mostly to break the trance she'd put him under. He closed the door behind him and smirked at her in his impish way, "What were you worried about, a mob of vicious dairy cows attacking me?"

"Oh, ha ha! Smartass." She retorted, then after a sip of her drink added, "So, you going to tell me what it was Al had to talk to you so urgently about?"

Suddenly Wrath looked grim, "It was nothing…"

She knew, of course, that this was code for _something dangerous or unpleasant, or both._

"I noticed Al had a pair of train tickets in his coat pocket when he came back today…"

Wrath didn't say anything; he knew Winry probably had at least a vague idea of what Al had planned. She persisted, "Ed and Al never told me anything about what they were involved in, and now Ed's gone goodness knows where and Al's convinced he can bring him back somehow using Alchemy…I'm sick of being left in the dark! I need to know what's going on…please Wrath?"

She pleaded to him with her eyes; it was more than he could stand, "Alphonse thinks he knows how to bring back Edward from the other side of the gate. I think he's going to sacrifice himself again the way he did before, and the way Edward did for him. Don't worry, I won't let him…I'll make him transmute me instead."

Winry was shocked, her eyes wide. Wrath looked down at his automail hand, clenching it into a fist, then slackening it, "I don't want to see Al sacrifice himself again; I want him and Edward to be together. Maybe it's because I want to atone for what I've done, or because I want to be with mom, or maybe I just want to know my worthless existence had some good use in the end…"

"Wrath…"

He smiled a little, raising his mechanical fist, "Thanks for this. It never let me down, even after I beat the hell out of it." He turned to head upstairs to bed, but she was across the kitchen in two steps, her hand wrapped around his wrist before he could make it to the door.

"You think it's just that simple, huh? Your life is worth so little you can just throw it away without a second thought," her voice was cracking, her sorrow for him reflected in her pale blue eyes. Wrath pulled his wrist away, clenching his fists and sneering defiantly at her, "Don't give me this routine! It's the same crap _she_ tried to pull, then Edward did the same, showing me so-called compassion! Do you think just because I wear this face, that makes me human? That I deserve your mercy? Why didn't he just destroy me when he had the chance, sacrifice me instead of himself, WHY?!"

Winry felt her eyes burning; she could feel the guilt and anguish in Wrath's voice, "Ed's not the type…he doesn't have it in him to kill even a homunculus like you in cold blood…not lying there helpless like you were. As for Izumi…is it so hard to understand a mother's love for her son?"

"SHUT UP!" Wrath raged, grabbing Winry around the throat and pushing her against the wall. The synthetic muscles of his automail arm creaked as the metallic fingers tightened on her neck, "Don't mock me! You were there that day on the island, you _saw_ what I did to her! You _know_ what I am; I'm a monster!"

Winry choked, her fingers tugging desperately at the vicelike grip of the hand she forged, "Wrath…please…!" she whispered.

A look of horror washed over his face as Wrath realized he was one small squeeze away from killing her; he released her and stumbled backward, looking at his mechanical hand with dismay and disgust. Winry slumped over, coughing and gasping fitfully as she reached out a hand to steady herself against the wall.

"I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

She looked up at him and smiled weakly, "Do you really think Izumi didn't realize what you were from the first time she laid eyes on you? Didn't know she created you? Even after you changed, she couldn't kill you, because you are her son and she loved you…"

Wrath shut his eyes, half turning away and covering his face with his palm; his teeth were gritted tightly, his body faintly shaking in the moonlight. Winry stood up, steadying herself before moving closer; her voice was steady now, cutting through the night time quiet and Wrath's unbalanced mind with crystal clarity, "You said your life was incomplete that day, not worthless…so find what's missing instead of throwing it away!"

"How can you talk like this…" Wrath whispered, watching her through parted fingers, his eyes locking with hers, "You're in love with Edward, aren't you?

She stopped, shocked to hear someone say it out loud, especially Wrath. She crossed her arms over her stomach, seeming to shrink away a little, "I…yeah…I guess I am."

"So then why…" Wrath persisted, his voice a low growl, his fist clenching in his hair, "would you stop me from doing this if it means he'll come back to you?!…WELL?!"

She shook her head, clenching her fists and meeting his stare unafraid, "I don't want it if it means you have to die! Ed would say the exact same thing!"

Wrath shut his eyes, "How can you be so stupid…"

"You're stupid!" she cut him off, "You think nobody cares, that nobody would cry if you died, that your life would have no meaning?…well I would cry for you, Wrath!"

The homunculus looked like someone had hit him in the gut with a sledgehammer; his mind emptied and the only thing he saw was the image of Winry alone before a gravestone marked with his name, shedding tears for a child of sin, the spawn of the damned, and mourning earnestly for him despite his unworthiness. That image shook his world to its foundations and he was left speechless before her.

She reached out a hand to him, but he suddenly found himself trembling; he couldn't bear to be the object of such selfless compassion any longer, to be in the presence of such unconditional mercy. He ran, flashing past her and dashing out the door and into the moonlit night. The door slammed behind him, leaving Winry alone with her thoughts once again. She knew better than to go after him; it had been too much for him just then. She sighed resignedly and turned to head to bed. She was met in the hall doorway by a dour, unimpressed looking Panako, "And just what was all that racket I heard a little while ago? Do you have any idea what time it is? What in the world is going on with you, Winry!?"

Winry just smiled and shook her head. "It's all okay," was all she offered, then moved past Panako and upstairs to bed, leaving her confused grandmother scratching her head and grumbling to herself in confusion and annoyance.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The air was musty and stale as Wrath and Al plodded down the ancient, crumbling stone steps that led to the hidden, underground city; the site of so many atrocities and so much pain. It had been several days since Wrath's confrontation with Winry, and her words kept coming back to him, playing over and over in his mind. They were mixing, curiously, with the words spoken by Fullmetal on the night he passed through the gate and Alphonse returned to his own world. As he descended deeper into darkness and silence, the memories of that night flooded into his mind's eye.

The pain had been immense as Wrath lay there on the ground, dismembered by the gate children, beaten and burned. It was a cruel irony indeed that for all their artificiality and inhuman abilities, Homunculi could still feel terrible pain, just like the humans they were meant to replace but could never replicate. He had looked up, his vision clouded with agony, to see Fullmetal drawing transmutation circles on himself, preparing to do the unthinkable: a self human transmutation. "Wait, Edward…" Wrath had said, staring hard into the golden eyes of the Fullmetal Alchemist as he calmly prepared to sacrifice himself, as his brother had done moments before, "Don't be stupid…what's the point of sacrificing yourself when your brother just did the same to save you? Use me! Transmute me and you can bring him back, don't you get it?! If a human transmutation creates a homunculus, then sacrificing me should be the equivalent exchange needed to get him back! USE ME!"

Wrath would never forget the look on Edward's face that night, or the words he spoke. "You're just like her…" he had said, a soft, pained, regretful tone in his voice, "I'm sorry that I never found out what your true name is; you deserve better than to be called Wrath the rest of your life. I'm sorry for everything I've done to you; you didn't deserve that either. Tell Izumi…tell her…" He looked away, the pain on his face clearly visible, as if he wanted to say something that just wouldn't come, "Just tell her thanks for everything, for being there when we needed her." With that he'd turned away and transmuted his own body, opening the gate and somehow pulling Alphonse, body and soul, from that black abyss. Wrath had screamed for him to stop, to use his own body as the equivalent exchange, but it was too late. That vision and those words haunted Wrath as he led Alphonse deeper and deeper down the stone steps.

For Al, the silence was almost unbearable; the only sound was the alternating slap and clack of Wrath's steps. "So, why did you lead me all the way here, Wrath?" he finally ventured. He didn't understand why Wrath had been so willing to help him when they had formerly been enemies. Wrath turned his head and shot a glance backward at Al, but said nothing. Al sighed, "I guess I'll find out soon enough…"

His question was answered moments later as they emerged into an enormous cavern. They stood at the edge of a huge cliff and gazed down at the expanse of an entire city spread out before them, a monumental transmutation circle carved right through its streets. Al drew a gasp, his eyes wide, "It's…it's just like the one in Liore!"

They raced along the curving steps that led down the cliff face into the city, emerging onto a large plateau that appeared to have once been part of a now ruined building. Al stepped out into the middle of the open area, kneeling down and clapping his hands; he created a transmutation circle pattern on the old dusty stones. Wrath looked on silently; the circle was unlike anything he'd seen before. It convinced him that Al must be planning to sacrifice himself. That could not be allowed to happen; not again, not ever!

Just then, something alerted Wrath's acute senses. Something was moving nearby; it was faint, but he knew there was something in the city with them. He stalked along the edge of Al's circle, looking up at the silent, foreboding cavern walls around them. Suddenly, Wrath spun on his heel, looking up at the crumbling façade of the ruin they were standing in; something huge was coming, and it was coming fast. There was an explosion above, and it sent a massive block of stone careening toward them. Wrath was barely able to dodge in time and the gigantic stone crashed into a pillar behind them, toppling it to the ground with a deafening crash. Wrath and Al looked on in shock as a massive, hulking beast emerged from the billowing clouds of dust above them. It leaped from its perch and landed with such force that it shook the ground, making Al stumble.

It was a horrific sight; its malformed body consisted of two massive, fleshy forelimbs with a relatively small torso and a huge, swaying, quivering belly dangling beneath it. From its back sprouted three long tail-like appendages each as thick as a huge tree trunk, the ends of which formed grotesque, humanoid faces with small, vestigial legs attached. Its pores were oozing a thick, sanguine reddish substance that dripped from the folds of its bloated flesh and spattered off it as it moved, sniffing the air with its chubby, almost inhuman face. It turned its blank gaze toward Al and Wrath, and a cruel smile spread across its flabby features.

"Gluttony…" Wrath breathed, horrified at what a twisted, monstrous abomination the homunculus had become. "Gluttony?!" Al exclaimed, aghast at what he was seeing, not having any memory of the events he and his brother had been so embroiled in prior to his bodily return from the Gate.

"He's one of the seven like me, a monster!"

The beast charged at them before Wrath had a chance to say another word. It slammed its massive fist into him, sending him airborne, careening helplessly. The young homunculus slammed into a crumbling stone pillar, grunting in pain as he slid down onto the stone floor, now several stories higher and hundreds of yards further way from where he had been. Gluttony launched itself into flight, sailing effortlessly through the air at Wrath, intent on devouring him. Wrath scrambled to his feet and ran for his life as the bloated horror crashed through the stones where he had been as if they were children's toy blocks. He scrambled over the decaying edifice of the ruins and dashed over rooftops in his desperate flight, pursued by the monstrous eating machine. Gluttony slammed its whip like tails into the monolithic stone promenade Wrath was running across, shattering the stone and lifting it high into the air. He leaped from the edge and kept running. Suddenly he was flattened against a huge block that Gluttony had hurled in his direction, and he careened toward a far away pillar, pinned against the stone by the g-forces. This was not going well…

Al looked on helplessly as the two homunculi battled. Somehow his attempts at Alchemy were meeting interference from the circle he was standing on. Why wasn't it working?! Was something going on at the other side of the gate? Just then, Wrath's body shot out from the billowing dust cloud that marked the site of their epic struggle. He slammed into the ground, flipping and skidding across it. Al clenched his fists; how could Wrath take so much punishment?! Why was he even doing this?! Couldn't he just flee where Gluttony was too big to fit and leave him to die?

Wrath lay motionless on the ground, his forehead resting against the cold stones. Gluttony slammed down into a shallow pool of water nearby, creating a massive splash that showered Wrath with raindrops. He gazed out of half lidded eyes, his body wracked with pain, his vision hazy. It was too much…he didn't have the power to beat such a monstrosity. His whole body screamed in pain, and it felt like all he could do was lay there and wait for death. Had he failed so easily? Was this all his life would come to? The beast reared itself, its body swelling and spurting more of the foul red liquid from its vile pores.

Just then, Wrath noticed something; the spurts of red ooze crystallized as they struck the ground. Red stones! That was it…he could not allow himself to lose, he had to try! Summoning all his strength, the young homunculus forced himself to stand. He lurched forward, stumbling, then striding, then running full tilt toward the ravening hulk before him. The gluttonous beast lunged for him, but he threw himself down and slid beneath it, leaping up at the last moment to narrowly avoid being devoured by the mouth at the end of one of the serpentine tails.

He knelt to pick up one of the stones when another bone shattering blow from one of Gluttony's fists sent him rocketing through the air again, skipping him across the pond of stagnant water until his back slammed against a wall and he slid down into the dark pool. He groaned in pain, sinking until he came to rest on the bottom. A glint of shining red caught his eye and he groped with his fingers until they closed around a handful of the little red gems that concealed so much alchemic power within them. He couldn't help but remember the first time he tasted the sweet bitterness of these little gems…the day Envy had shattered his innocence and forced him to remember the horrors of the Gate, the place he had forgotten in his long years growing up alone on Yock island. These stones had cost him what semblance of humanity he had, but now they were the only hope of saving him from becoming a meal for the gruesome mockery of nature that was Gluttony. He shoved them into his mouth.

Suddenly he felt the teeth of the beast upon him, lifting him and launching him high into the air. But he felt something else, too: something familiar and thrilling, something desperate and terrible. He felt the power of the stones course through his inhuman blood, his muscles swelling and bones creaking as that old familiar rage burned up inside him.

The tails lunged again, and there was a fountain of blood. Al gasped, his heart in his throat. _No, NO! I don't want anyone else to suffer for what I've done! _He felt so helpless, wanting desperately to help Wrath, to save him, but unable to do anything. Suddenly, Gluttony screamed from the face on its tail as the fleshy cord split open and toppled, and Al could see that it was Gluttony's blood, not Wrath's that gushed forth. Wrath sailed down from that dizzying height and landed effortlessly, solid as a rock when moments before he seemed almost defeated. Gluttony whirled around, whipping one of his tails at Wrath. It shot across Al's vision, only to stop dead, its serpentine form twisting up as if it had hit a solid wall. Al's eyes went wide as he saw Wrath, standing his ground, holding back the fangs with his bare hands. He sidestepped and wrapped his arms around Gluttony's tail, spinning his whole body until the slithering member was sliced clean off. Gluttony screamed in rage and pain, its thunderous steps shaking the ground.

Another strike from Gluttony connected, and Wrath found himself airborne again, but the power of the stones allowed him to right himself and land gracefully. He charged forward, intent on attacking again, but was forced to flip backward to avoid being struck by Gluttony's wildly flailing limbs. He sailed through the air and slid to a halt on all fours. He paused, staring at the hulking beast coming at him. This wasn't working! He couldn't inflict enough damage on Gluttony to put him down. It was then that he noticed where he was; the black lines of the transmutation circle Alphonse created were visible between his fingers as he glanced down. He was crouched in the middle of the circle.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl; he could hear the blood rushing in his ears as his mind raced. What could he do? How could this fight end in anything but his death? The strands of fate seemed to play out in his mind one by one, each thread unraveling with the consequences of the decisions he had before him. He saw himself anchoring his fist into the ground, using his body as a lure and a trap to hold Gluttony on the circle so Alphonse could transmute them both, opening the gate, maybe, just maybe, letting him return to Izumi…Gluttony was getting closer. Maybe it was for the best, after all his life was no less an abomination than that of the creature he was fighting…but then another vision entered his mind. It was the image of Winry, standing alone before a gravestone, weeping quietly. "_I would cry for you, Wrath_…" Her words echoed in his mind, reverberating through the very fiber of his being. He looked up, his dark blue eyes fixing on the gaping maw of the ravenous monstrosity bearing down on him.

No, he would not let Winry cry for him…not today. He clenched his mechanical fist, willing the servos inside his automail arm to wind tighter and tighter, straining them almost to the breaking point, crouching low, cocking his mechanical leg, hoping Winry's handiwork would be able to take the strain. He gritted his teeth, feeling the automail straining, nearly tearing the anchor points in his flesh as he prepared to unleash all the power they and his fury could muster, "Come to me, you bastard…" he breathed.

Gluttony's head cocked back, then lunged forward, his drool-dripping mouth gaping. Al looked on, horrified and helpless as it seemed the homunculus who had so selflessly aided him would be crushed and devoured before his eyes. Izumi's face flashed in his mind as tears began to sting Al's eyes, "No, please…!" he whispered.

There was a sound like a gunshot and the back of Gluttony's skull exploded, a fountain of blood and bone chunks bursting up like some macabre geyser from the back of his bulbous head. Al staggered back, looking up to see Wrath's form shooting upward out of the cloud of gore. He flipped over in the air, hitting a crumbling wall and crashing through it, tumbling down until he managed to grasp onto a ledge with his automail hand. His mechanical limb, failing from the tremendous strain of his attack on Gluttony, let go and he fell again, slamming down hard onto his back on a ledge three floors below. He struggled to his knees, his vision clouded by blood and pain, gore dripping from his shattered automail fist, "ALPHONSE," he screamed desperately, hoping the Alchemist could hear him, "DO IT NOW! TRANSMUTE HIM! THE GATE WILL OPEN TO TAKE HIM BACK!"

"Of course!" Al exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place, "The gate always opened when a homunculus was brought to life…those who came through the gate can be material to open it!"

Gluttony's massive body collapsed onto the circle, twitching and writhing, its brain destroyed by Wrath's skull splitting attack. It was only a matter of time, though, before it regenerated; they both knew it took more than that to kill a homunculus. Wrath clenched his remaining fist, "I WON'T LET YOU SACRIFICE YOURSELF, I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE THAT HAPPEN, NEVER AGAIN! THAT'S WHY I CAME WITH YOU! NOW TRANSMUTE HIM, ALCHEMIST, BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"

Al needed no more prompting; he raced toward Gluttony, clapping his hands together and pressing them into the homunculus' bulbous flesh. A blinding light filled the cavern, bathing them all in an otherworldly blue glow. Wrath smiled; maybe his life was worth something after all. "I won't let you cry because of me, Winry…" he whispered.

Meanwhile, Winry and Sheska, who had been sneaking through the abandoned tunnels that led to the old Fuhrer's office, found themselves emerging from a collapsed tunnel. Winry shook her head, looking around, "Where are we?"

"I'm not really sure, I'm just glad we're still alive…" Sheska groaned. They looked up just in time to see a small red rocket plane flash past between the ruined city buildings, followed by a massive white ship entwined with strange black tendrils.

Sheska shot Winry a sidelong glance, "Now do you believe in space aliens?"

"Oh don't start that again…"

"WINRY!"

They whirled around to find Wrath and Al scrambling down a nearby rubble pile, running at them. Wrath's automail arm looked badly damaged and only partially functional, but he had the broadest smile Winry had ever seen plastered across his face; it was his voice she had heard calling her name.

"Wrath, Al! What are they?" she said, turning and gazing up at the huge flying fortress that soared above them.

"I donno…" Al said, shaking his head, "All I did was open up the gate…"

"What?"

Shezka's startled cry interrupted Winry's thought; the red flying machine was careening out of control, and it appeared to be heading right toward where they stood gawking. It flashed over their heads at incredible speed, kicking up dust and debris in its wake. It made a less than graceful landing several hundred yards away, the wings and landing struts shearing off with the force of the impact and the remainder of the fuselage sliding over the cobblestones before slamming into a mouldering stone wall at the end of the street. As the dust cloud dissipated, the four astonished onlookers could see that the crash had not been fatal for the craft's lone occupant.

Winry's breath caught in her throat as she realized who it was; crumpled on the street, his form now slowly stirring to life, was Edward Elric. Al glanced at Winry, then back at his brother. Winry took a faltering step, letting the strap of the heavy case she had been carrying slip off her shoulder as she began running toward Ed. She stopped short, nearly overcome with emotion as she looked down at him. He rubbed his head, muttering something under his breath before he looked up and his expression turned from annoyance to bewilderment to subdued happiness and calm. "Winry…" he breathed.

"I was wondering when you'd show…" she said, her voice nearly cracking with emotion. She couldn't restrain herself a moment longer. She threw herself into a warm, tight embrace. The earnest, tender emotion behind the gesture was not lost on Ed; he had so often been too busy, too immersed in his obsessive pursuit of alchemic knowledge to notice the affections of various women in his life, but this feeling was unmistakable. He knew what it meant for a woman to throw her arms around him that way, and the realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He knew in that moment that Winry loved him, that she was _in_ love with him, and most unexpectedly of all, he also knew that he was in love with her. He stared blankly forward, his body faintly trembling with the intensity of what had passed between them in that brief moment. "Welcome home," she said softly, tears beginning to sting her eyes. "Thanks…" was all Ed could muster, his voice faltering as he spoke.

Ed noticed something else, before that fateful embrace ended; Wrath was standing beside Al and Sheska at the other end of the street, his gaze fixed on him. For a brief moment their eyes met and Ed read the emotion lurking behind those dark, inhuman pools of midnight blue; Wrath's dark eyes betrayed a turbulent mix of dismay, longing and anger. The whirlpool of emotion that seemingly churned inside his mind spilled over onto the grim, wistful, pained expression on his face, the face that looked now so strikingly like that of his mother Izumi. _Don't let her down, Edward…_he seemed to be saying, _or I'll make you wish you hadn't. _

"Brother!" Al's jubilant voice broke the silence of the moment as he and Sheska rushed to their side.

"Al, Sheska…" Ed breathed, a broad smile crossing his face.

"I knew I'd see you again," said Al.

Wrath joined them, stopping just little behind Al, off to one side. He was much taller than Ed remembered him, and there was something very different in his bearing and demeanor. He was no longer the sad, angry, unstable boy Ed knew before; it seemed he had grown up in more ways than one. Wrath averted his gaze when it seemed his point had been adequately conveyed and stared down the shadowy length of a nearby alleyway.

Al looked up at the massive airship looming high above them, "What is it, Brother?" he asked.

"It's a rocket powered airship…and it's armed." Al shot a horrified glance at his brother; Ed continued, "They came to conquer this world, and use any power they can take from us to fuel their own war."

Al looked downcast, grimacing and clenching his fists, "It's my fault…" he whispered. With that, he was gone, dashing off aimlessly down the street. Ed struggled to his feet, trying to give chase, but it was futile; he stumbled and fell to his knees, his badly damaged prosthetic limb twisted and useless.

Winry stepped forward and set down the large case she brought with her. "Same old Ed, home for five minutes and you're off on another mission…" she said, snapping open the latches of the large brown case, "But you can't go into battle with that arm and leg, now can you?" She lifted the lid to reveal two brand new automail limbs.

Shezka gasped, "You've been lugging those around this whole time?!"

They were incredible; they looked even more advanced than the ones she had previously fashioned for him. Their every surface was finely polished to a dull sheen, coated to protect against rust. The surgical grade steel gleamed in the dim light as Ed looked them over. He grinned sheepishly, "They're great, but I'm not so sure they'll fit, I've grown you know…"

"Who do you think you're dealing with?"

It wasn't long before the excruciating process of attaching the new automail was complete. Wrath looked on throughout the procedure, unable to keep from sympathizing a little with Ed's obvious agony when the shoulder and thigh socket joints were inserted; he himself had suffered that pain too, though they both knew it was only temporary and thankfully fairly fleeting. It was amazing to behold the intensity and focus on Winry's face as she worked through the procedure of attaching the mechanical limbs. She was like a true master artist at work, and it wasn't long before Ed was standing on his new leg and flexing his new arm. They moved flawlessly, as if they were his natural limbs rather than mechanical prosthetics made of steel, cable and servos.

"Perfect!" Shezka exclaimed.

"Considering all the guesswork, I'd say I did an okay job, wouldn't you?" Winry said humbly.

Wrath clenched his fist and said nothing; it was plain to see how deep her love for Ed ran. He had come to realize that she meant a great deal to him; feelings he had thought himself incapable of had surfaced inside him. Seeing her feelings for Ed made him ache, a small part of him wanting to know what it meant to be loved that way, and to return that love. For the first time in his life he began to understand what it was that made Lust and the other homunculi want so badly to be human.

Ed rolled down his sleeve as another airship burst through the gaping portal, the deformed remnants of metamorphosed gate children still clinging to its hull. "More ships coming through…" Ed commented, preparing to dash off into battle. He took one step before stopping dead; Wrath had grabbed his wrist and the grip was inescapable. Ed whirled around, about to tell him off, but the look on Wrath's face silenced him.

"Let me go with you, Edward. I want to help you."

"It's okay, I'll go alone.."

"Please!" Wrath hissed. Why couldn't the fool understand? Didn't he realize what he would be doing to Winry if he didn't come back? He wanted to punch Edward in his smug mouth for being so cavalier with his life and Winry's feelings, but his automail hand wasn't functioning well enough to make a fist. He decided restraint was better for now. Besides all that, he had come to the realization that it was because of Edward Elric, his hated foe, his bitter rival for Izumi's affections that he had the chance to find a reason to live. He owed the Fullmetal Alchemist enough to ensure that he returned alive from this battle.

Ed understood why Wrath had stopped him; Wrath had feelings for Winry too. A faint smile of admiration cross Ed's lips; he knew by the damage to Wrath's automail and the remnants of encrusted blood, both his and that of his unknown foe, that he had gone through something punishing and had protected Al from it. Now Wrath wanted to protect him for Winry's sake. He gently took hold of Wrath's wrist with his other hand, lifting it away from his arm. He met Wrath's gaze and nodded slightly, "I need you to stay with Winry, to keep her safe. Make sure she and Shezka make it out of here safely. Okay?"

"Why? Why do you have to go? Let me hold them off while you escape with Winry and the others!"

Edward shook his head solemnly, "This is my responsibility...I created that portal, and I've got to be the one to close it. Please understand, I have no choice...she needs you to keep her safe now."

Wrath slowly nodded, understanding that Ed's meaning wasn't only for the present predicament; he wouldn't be coming back from this mission. Ed shot Wrath a parting glance, as if to say, _I'm trusting her to you now, don't let her down, _before turning to dash down the cobblestone street into the dust and ashes blowing on the breeze.

Ed was glad he had made his exit so abruptly; he could feel the grief and longing welling up inside him. It was a bitter thing to accept that all this time she had loved him, and all this time he had been so utterly blind to it. His heart seemed like it would burst with all the things he wanted to say to her, things he never could now. He felt the tears begin to sting his eyes and run down his cheeks. "I love you, Winry," he whispered, needing to say it out loud at least once before the end. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, running harder toward the fate that awaited him.

"Come on…we need to get out of here…" Wrath said, turning away. He didn't want to see the sadness on Winry's face.

"Hold on there…" Winry said, grasping his mangled automail hand. Wrath stopped suddenly, his eyes wide; he hadn't expected her to take his hand in hers, and even though it was his artificial one, he liked it. What was she going to say to him?

Winry smiled at him as he half turned to glance at her through his raven coloured bangs, "Your arm is damaged. You can't fight off any invaders with a broken arm, now can you?"

She immediately set to work repairing his damaged arm. She unlatched the dented cover plate of Wrath's forearm, a look of disapproval and annoyance washing over her face as she saw the extent of the damage inside. "Geeze, you're worse than Ed with this thing…what the heck happened to it…and what the heck is all this…red…" she looked up at him, noticing for the first time just how bloodied he was, "Oh my gosh, is this your blood?! Are you okay?!"

Wrath smirked, looking down at her, "Only some of it. I'm fine."

Shezka grimaced, noticing the extent of the gruesome mess on and in Wrath's arm for the first time. Winry took a rag from her pocket and wiped away some of the encrusted blood. She examined the anchor points in Wrath's shoulder, "You really strained your automail, didn't you?" She looked up into his eyes, "You protected Al from something really awful…"

Wrath nodded; he didn't want her to have to think about the grotesquery he had battled only a short while before. He quickly changed the subject, "I wanted to thank you…for what you said before…"

Winry glanced up at him for a moment, a confused look on her lovely features. She pulled out her toolkit and immediately went to work fixing his arm, "What did I say? That you should take better care of your automail?" She was engrossed in her work. Wrath was thankful; it was too personal a thing to share with her at a time like this, the fact that her words had given him a reason to live rather than sacrifice himself and return to the darkness of the gate. No, he would keep that to himself for now. For now, it was enough that she was safe, and he would keep her that way.

Before long she had finished repairing his arm and he sat down to oblige her repairs on his leg. She opened the cover plate and tinkered a bit, "The leg isn't as badly damaged as your arm was. I'll have this fixed up in a sec…" She reached inside, attaching a small wrench to one of the bolts, "This is going to sting a bit."

Wrath flinched and clenched his fists as she tightened the loose bolt, but the shooting pain soon subsided. Wrath stood up, tapping his metal foot on the cobblestones a few times and flexing his automail arm; he found them as good as new, or better. He grinned, "I hope you never send me the bill for all this work you've done…"

His words were cut short as a wall behind him shattered and the hulking form of an armoured storm trooper, its body grotesquely altered by the clinging remnants of the gate children, crashed through it. The trooper lunged forward and raised its automatic rifle, intent on slaughtering Wrath, Winry and Shezka in a hail of bullets.

In a flash of movement, Wrath spun around and slapped the rifle muzzle aside with his automail palm; the weapon discharged a burst into a nearby storefront, shattering the few panes of glass remaining. He instantly grasped the butt stock and barrel simultaneously and wrenched the weapon away from the trooper with incredible force, spinning the rifle around and delivering a burst of automatic fire into its visor. Crimson and steel fragments blasted out the back of the armoured monster's helmet and it toppled and fell onto the pavement in a bloody heap, twitching a few times before laying still.

Wrath held the smoking and now empty weapon, looking it over carefully; it had a wooden hand guard covering the first third of the barrel length, a wooden butt stock and pistol grip, a long barrel and was fitted with a small, low powered telescopic sight. Just below the muzzle, it had a long, spike like bayonet attached to the barrel. The magazine protruded horizontally from the receiver which was stamped with the letters "FG 42" on the top. Wrath flicked what the figured must be the magazine release and tossed the empty magazine aside. He stooped to pick up an ammo satchel from the slain trooper and slung it over his shoulder. Winry and Shezka looked at each other, then back at Wrath, glad to be alive but a little concerned as to what might happen next.

Wrath slammed a full magazine into the weapon and cocked the action, casting a glance over his shoulder toward Shezka and Winry that betrayed his malicious grin, "Let's go…"

The alleys and plazas of the underground city soon echoed with the screaming staccato of automatic fire as Wrath blazed a blood spattered path through the aimlessly wandering, zombie-like storm troopers, followed closely by Winry and Shezka.

He fired a quick burst from the cover of a ruined building, raking two troopers and sending them crashing to the ground before yelling for Winry and Shezka to dash across the street to the next building. More bullets ricocheted off the stones at Wrath's heels just as he dashed behind the crumbled wall where Winry and Shezka were sheltering. He growled and leaned out from behind the wall, emptying his magazine into three more troopers that were trying to advance on their position. He shot a withering glance at Shezka, "Would you pick up a gun and help me here?!"

She went pale and adjusted her glasses nervously. Wrath tossed aside the empty magazine in annoyance, slamming a fresh one into the rifle and cocking it, "You're in the damn army, aren't you?! _Shoot something!_"

"I'm just a clerk, I don't know how to shoot!"

"Then you better learn quick, soldier girl!" Wrath retorted.

Meanwhile, Winry had slid her tool case up onto the edge of the rubble pile in front of her as she strained to peek over the edge. "Hey, I can see daylight!" she yelled excitedly, pointing up the street to where a path led up the cliff side toward an exit from the cavern. The sound of several machineguns cocking made her realize her mistake. She felt Wrath grab her roughly by the collar and drag her back into cover. She stumbled back onto him and they fell in a heap just as a withering hail of machinegun bullets screamed through the air where she had just been. She watched in horror as her toolkit was ripped to shreds by the veritable wall of lead, splintering and shattering, sending fragments and broken tools spinning through the air. "My tools!" she screamed, looking on helplessly.

The hail of bullets stopped as the enemy reloaded their guns. Wrath could feel Winry's body faintly trembling as she lay half on top of him "Uh, Winry…are you…?" Wrath hesitantly began, a little concerned as her face contorted into a look of unadulterated fury. Suddenly Winry grabbed a discarded machine gun that lay nearby, leaping onto the top of the rubble pile, "EAT THIS YOU BASTARDS!" she screamed, opening up and mowing down a huge crowd of lumbering armoured soldiers with a stream of hot lead. She continued to scream in rage, the machine gun spitting leaden death until the ammo belt was completely expended. She turned back to Wrath and Shezka as she tossed aside the empty gun, "What are you waiting for, let's move!"

They dashed as fast as they could, Wrath trailing slightly behind to fire back at the few stragglers that followed them. They were almost at the exit, the breeze from outside wafting down and cutting through the dank, musty air of the subterranean cavern. Just as they were about to burst through the opening, an armoured zombie stepped out from behind a wall and grabbed Winry by the neck. She screamed as it lifted her off her feet.

Wrath leapt into the air with a roar of pure rage, slamming his bayonet through the visor of the hulking monstrosity, the spike punching out the back. It dropped Winry and Wrath fired a burst through the thing's face, sending it careening backwards in a shower of blood and steel shards.

They dashed out into the brilliant sunlight just in time to witness a massive explosion rocking the apartment block directly in front of them at the end of the street. A huge pillar of stone material shot up out of it, rocketing toward the careening airship above.

"What was that?!"

"It's Edward!" Winry exclaimed.

They watched in amazement as an alchemically generated spike shot up from the pillar, slamming through the armoured hull of the airship and pinning it in place like a specimen on some gigantic entomology display. They watched as explosions rocked the hull, and though they couldn't make out the figures on the pillar, they knew it must be Ed and Al and possibly Roy Mustang attempting to board the ship and take it out.

It wasn't long before part of the ship broke free and the rocket engines fired up. They could see a section of the wing descending slowly as the main hull rocketed away, heading back toward the gaping maw of the underground city's cavern. Somehow, Winry knew what it meant: Edward was returning the ship through the gate. She knew because it was the kind of heroically self sacrificial thing he would be sure to do. Her heart sank; until that moment, a tiny glimmer of hope remained in her heart that she and Ed might somehow be together. At that moment, it flickered and died. She felt tears begin to well in her eyes, but she steeled herself and fought them back. "That's Ed…" she said quietly to no one in particular.

Wrath watched the ship disappear from sight with a sense of sadness he had never expected to feel at such a moment. He actually hurt for Winry, hating to see the look of profound sorrow that had washed over her beautiful features, but deep down, he even managed to feel a bit of sorrow for Edward as well. The thought momentarily passed his mind that had things been different, had they found themselves in a different world, had he…or his human original, lived, then perhaps he and Edward might have been friends.

He banished the thought from his mind and glanced at Winry through his raven hair, careful not to allow her to notice. He tightened his grip on the rifle. He would not fail in the commission given him by the Fullmetal Alchemist; not today, _not ever_.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He heaved a sigh as he pushed open the creaking, rusty screen door and stepped onto the front porch, his military surplus jackboots clumping heavily on the old, worn floorboards. He clenched his screwdriver between his front teeth and reached back to untie his pony tail, letting his raven hair hang freely again after having it bound up for so many hours. He preferred it this way, but quite frankly it was totally impractical for automail work; he had to concede that long ago. He withdrew the screwdriver from his teeth and let it hang loosely from his fingertips, tapping it rhythmically against his grease-stained pant leg. He gazed out across the windswept grass of the front lawn as Winry was just passing the post-box with Den. As always, her movements were gracefully alluring, yet full of an irrepressible spark of inner fire that nothing could extinguish. She strode down the lane toward town with Den prancing happily beside her as the late summer sunset flared on the wisps of blonde hair that brushed her face. She hadn't noticed him as he came outside and he didn't mind in the least as he watched her beautiful form stroll off down the country road. He absent-mindedly scratched the back of his neck as he turned and stepped to the edge of the porch, leaning against the post to catch the last few glimpses of her before she disappeared from sight, lost in contemplation and admiration of her. He was utterly enthralled by her, this he knew, and yet he somehow could not bring himself to believe it could be love. Was a homunculus even truly capable of love? Surely not, but still he couldn't get her out of his mind, and his only true solace in life was her presence. The mere sound of her voice or fleeting touch of her hand sent a thrill through him he had never felt before he came to live at the yellow house in Risembool.

"Boy, you've got it bad."

Wrath nearly jumped out of his skin as his reverie was shattered by the raspy, age-worn voice of Panako. He spun on his heel to see her looking amused and swaying back and forth in a self assured manner on the front porch swing. He sneered at her in annoyance, wondering just how the hell she managed to go unnoticed. The crafty old broad was just a little too savvy for his liking sometimes. He averted his dark gaze and stared out over the grasslands, watching the summer breeze ripple across the tall blades, "What're you going on about now, old lady?"

Panako chuckled, patting the open space on the porch swing beside her as she scooted over a little, "Come, sit," she said with a wry, knowing smile, "Have a drink."

Wrath glanced at the bench, then rolled his eyes slightly and begrudgingly sat himself on the swing. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his screwdriver swing lazily from his fingertips. "Winry doesn't like it when you drink…" he said.

She let out a little chuckle. It had been five years since the events that rocked central; following Ed and Al's final journey through the gate, Wrath had come to live with them in Risembool. Panako wasn't about to let him simply mope about the house, so she not so subtly encouraged him to take up the family business. To her amazement, he showed an uncanny natural acumen for automail engineering, to the point that under Winry's teaching he had become very nearly her equal; it was as if Izumi's incredible genius for alchemy had been inherited by Wrath as a mastery of all things mechanical. What amazed Panako even more, and continued to amaze her, was that Wrath had steadily become closer to Winry over the years to the point that he had fallen deeply, passionately, and hopelessly in love with her.

Panako poured rye from her steel hip flask into a glass and handed it to Wrath. He glanced at her as he took it, swirling it around and watching the amber liquid spin. She poured herself another glass and sat back on the swing. She looked him over for a moment as he gazed out over the windswept fields. When he'd first arrived, he'd been a little shorter than Winry with the wiry physique of a teenager, but he'd grown considerably and now was a full head taller than her. He'd filled out too, his shoulders becoming broad and his chest and arms strongly, if sleekly muscled. His boyish features had become those of a young man, yet still retaining the strong resemblance to Izumi, most keenly expressed in his dark, brooding, soulful eyes and the resolute, yet faintly mournful expression he habitually wore. He had shed the typical garb of a homunculus in order to appear more human, if for no other reason than to avoid unwanted attention from the villagers. In addition to his army surplus jackboots, he wore a pair of well-worn workman's slacks with cargo pockets, a simple leather belt and suspenders and a tattered old red shirt with the first several buttons undone, revealing his undershirt. Untied, his hair fell down to the middle of his back and framed his handsome features in the front.

After a moment and a sip of rye, Panako opened her mouth to speak, but Wrath cut her off, "How long do you have left?" he asked pointedly before taking a swig of whiskey.

Panako blinked in surprise; this time she was the one taken aback. Wrath glanced at her, his expression grim, his eyes betraying a hint of the depth of sadness concealed behind them, "You didn't think I'd noticed you've been coughing up blood for the past couple of months?"

Panako smiled slightly, taking another drink, "I've been trying to keep it from Winry as long as possible, but I should have known you'd figure it out sooner rather than later…the doctors say maybe a few months at most. It's a disease they don't know a great deal about yet, and given that I'm so old, that makes it pretty hopeless. I don't mind; I've lived long enough, but I'm worried about Winry."

Wrath took another, longer swig of whiskey; Panako could see he didn't care for it by the sour expression on his face, but she more than understood the feelings he was trying to drown. She pressed him anyway, "I know you love her. I just wonder if you're ever going to get around to letting her know."

He downed the rest of the glass instead of ending at a sip and shot a glance at her. Her expression was gentle and knowing; it pissed him off.

"Listen Wrath, when I'm gone, Winry is going to need you. One day she'll need more than a protector, or an assistant, even more than a friend…"

"You must be senile," he sneered, "It doesn't matter how I feel about her…you know damn well what I am! I'm a monster…a crime against nature, and that's all I'll ever be. In the end, I would only hurt her like I hurt Izumi…I don't deserve to love her."

"I know WHO you are, young man, not WHAT you are," she pressed on, not wavering for a moment, "I've known you for more than five years now, watched you grow from a boy into a man under my roof. Do you think I would trust my Winry to you, suffer you to even spend one night under the same roof as her, if I didn't believe you cared for her and would protect her? I may not know anything about alchemy or homunculi, but let me tell you, I've lived long enough to know something about people, and I sure as hell know love when I see it."

Wrath stood abruptly, setting the empty glass on the porch railing, "Thanks for the drink," he snarled, turning to leave. Panako jumped to her feet, grabbing his wrist. She was about to yank him back into his seat when she was struck with a coughing fit. She covered her mouth with her handkerchief as crimson stained the white linen. Wrath caught her as she stumbled, steadying her gently. After a moment, she nodded and he released her, standing silently and looking down at her with his dark eyes. She gazed back as resolutely as ever, adjusted her wire-rimmed spectacles, and continued, "The measure of a man is not where or how he was born, or who his parents were, or even his status in the world. What matters is what you decide to do with the time you've been given on this earth. Now you remember that and promise me that you'll be there for Winry, that you'll watch over her… you owe me that much…"

Wrath was staggered; he stared mutely at her for a moment, but ultimately he knew it was futile to argue. How could he do anything other than what Panako asked? To protect Winry had become as vital to him as breathing; she was his reason for being, and he would die any death to protect her, to preserve her happiness. He dared not dream that one day she would return his love, but he nodded to Panako nonetheless, "I will protect her…I promise you."

Panako smiled and nodded, "You make an old lady very happy," she said, stepping past him and patting him softly on the arm. "Things will be alright, you'll see."

She opened the door and was about to disappear inside, leaving Wrath to his thoughts. He glanced toward her, one eye hidden by his hair, "Hey…"

She paused, half turning, "Yes?"

"Thanks…for everything."

She nodded and smiled warmly, then stepped through the door without another word. Wrath cast another glance toward the road into town, then heaved a sigh and headed back down into his workbench in the cellar.

Several hours passed as Wrath poured himself into the project on his desk. He tinkered and fussed over it, adjusting, re-adjusting, attaching parts and scrutinizing it under his magnifying lens. He had completely lost track of time, obsessing over each gear and spring under the sulphuric light of his old banker's desk lamp. It still wasn't quite right. He growled under his breath, leaning back in his chair and tilting it until it stood on the back two legs, setting his right boot against the edge of his desk. He closed his eyes, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. A faint pattering on the narrow window above his desk pierced through his fatigue and he glanced up at the dusty pane; it was pitch black outside and a gentle rain was beginning to fall. He blinked a few times in surprise; had she really been gone so long?! What time was it? How long had he been working?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch, clicking the cover latch. The hands showed nine forty five. A sense of panic began to seize his inhuman heart; why wasn't Winry back yet?

Shoving the watch back into his pocket, he jumped up from his seat, knocking over the chair in the process. He was about to dash up the stairs, but stopped short. He threw a rag over the machine on his desk and shoved it back, slamming the roll top down before bounding up the cellar stairs. He dashed through the kitchen, grabbing his leather riding jacket from the coat rack by the door before dashing out into the night.

In minutes he had mounted and fired up his motorcycle, a rebuilt military scout bike complete with oversized leather messenger saddlebags, and was roaring down the muddy dirt road into town, the rain beginning to heavily pelt his riding goggles. Nagging dread clawed at his heart; had something happened to her? Was she hurt? He would never forgive himself if something happened to her because he was tinkering in the cellar when she needed him. He twisted the throttle and lifted the front wheel clear of the gravel road as he accelerated toward the lights of Risembool. The rain was streaming from his brown leather riding jacket; he could barely see through his goggles, but it didn't matter, he had to find Winry.

Suddenly, he became aware of a figure in the road ahead. He leaned aside and avoided it, zipping past at irresponsible speed. As he passed, however, he somehow realized it was Winry, walking along with Den sullenly following at her heels. He slammed on the brakes and leaned sharply to one side, swinging his rear wheel around as he skidded to a halt, sending a massive wave of mud, rocks and water into the air behind him. He kicked down the kickstand and stood over his bike, the machine rumbling as it sat perpendicular to the roadway. He stared mutely at Winry, unable to summon words. She stood soaking in the rain and looking back at him. At length, he smiled in relief, lifting his goggles for a better look at her, "Winry, you're…" His words were cut short by a small wrench connecting with his forehead, toppling him backwards off his bike and into the muddy road. He jumped up and stomped over to her furiously, "What the hell?!"

"You idiot, I've told you before to stop riding like a jackass! You could have killed yourself, not to mention me! And why do you insist on riding that damn thing without a helmet!" Winry tore a strip off him, looking rather fearsome.

Wrath's face was hot; he flushed with anger, clenching his fists, "Don't you get it?! I'm a homunculus, I'm not gonna get hurt falling off a damn bike…besides, never mind that! Do you have any idea what time it is?! I was worried sick about you, what the hell have you been doing all this time?!"

Winry rolled her eyes, lifting up the canvas bag she held in her right hand, "I had to buy parts for the automail we're building next week, and I just got to chatting with Sam about old times, that's all…"

Wrath looked at her incredulously, "It's almost ten, it's pouring rain…what could possibly make you want to 'chat' with him that long?"

"He asked me how Ed and Al were doing, if I'd heard from them…"

Wrath looked like he had been slapped in the face. Winry felt faintly guilty; she knew Wrath had always been protective of her, ever since they'd fought their way out of the hidden city below Central five years before. She softened her tone, looking away toward the distant lights of the house, "Listen, I'm sorry to make you worry. I'm perfectly fine…" She glanced at him and gave a faint smile, "If you can manage not to drive that thing like a lunatic, I wouldn't mind a ride."

Wrath stared at her, exasperated as he puffed out a little sigh. As pissed off as he was, his relief that she was safe outweighed his annoyance tenfold. Without another word, he shed his leather jacket and stepped behind her, laying it over her shoulders. Picking up her bag, he strode back to his bike, tossed the automail parts into one of the saddlebags and mounted up. He rolled up in front of her and gave a nod, motioning for her to get on. She smiled and jumped on the back, slipping her arms into the jacket sleeves so as not to lose it on the ride back. He was about to open up the throttle and roll off toward home when he felt Winry tapping him on the shoulder, "Hey, I think you forgot something…" She pointed at Den, who was standing in the road, wagging her tail and looking up at Wrath with huge, wet, pleading puppy-dog eyes.

Wrath smirked, reaching back and lifting the flap on the empty saddlebag. Den strode happily up to the rear of the bike and jumped in, snuggling down into it with her head poking out the front. Wrath dropped the flap and Den was cosily stowed, ready to ride. He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around the grips, toeing the clutch and twisting the throttle. The big v-twin rumbled in response and they started off together down the dark country road, this time at a far more sensible speed.

Winry wrapped her arms around his waist as they rolled along through the rain; she had never really been this close to him physically before, and she was a little surprised to find just how solidly built he was. No longer a scrawny teenager, clearly. She laid her head against his back, feeling sleep tugging at the edges of her consciousness. His hair smelled faintly of automail lubricant oil, leather and summer rain. She felt cozy zipped into his riding jacket, despite having already been thoroughly soaked. Her mind wandered as they rolled through the plains together, the rain beginning to ease and the cloud cover breaking to reveal a sliver of moonlight as they rumbled closer to home. She smiled as she realized the parallel between this evening and the time years before when she had waited up for him one moonlit night.

"Do you remember that time…" she said, yawning, "when I waited for you in the kitchen…cuz I was worried?"

Wrath didn't answer for a moment; he saw her in his mind's eye as she looked that night, remembered her words, how she showed unwavering compassion for him, despite knowing exactly what he really was, despite his rage and violence toward her. A faint smile came to his lips, "Oh yeah….I remember."

They rode along in silence a little further before he ventured to ask, "Why did you bring that up, anyways?" There was no answer. He felt her hands fall limp into his lap and realized with a start that she had fallen asleep. He let go of the handlebars with one hand and frantically grabbed a hold of one of her arms, holding her against his back to make sure she didn't fall off, "Geeze, you nut, what are you doing falling asleep on a motorbike!?" he hissed. They weren't far from home now and she seemed to be secure enough, so he sighed and rode on, deciding he wouldn't bother waking her. It wasn't long before they rumbled up in front of the house and he stopped the bike a few feet from the base of the front porch steps. Carefully, and rather awkwardly, he dismounted and scooped her into his arms, carrying her toward the front door as Den jumped from the saddlebag and bounded up the steps ahead of them. She stirred, blinking her cerulean eyes, and gazed up at him through the haze of sleep. "Carrying me?" she said with a soft, innocent smile, "You're sweet…"

"You've been working way too hard lately," he gently chided, "You shouldn't even be able to fall asleep soaking wet on a motorbike…and you call me reckless." His heart was pounding in his chest, and he hoped she couldn't feel it.

She chuckled a little, rubbing her eyes as he walked up the steps onto the porch, "I was just resting my eyes; I wasn't sleeping!" He was about to try to open the door, which also would have been extremely awkward, when she gestured for him to stop, "It's okay, I can take it from here…I need to get dried off and you need to put your bike away." He set her on her feet and took a step back, gazing at her in the moonlight that had now flooded the hillside. She was more beautiful and alluring than he had ever seen her before, and he ached for her, wanting to take her back into his arms and kiss her right there and then. He dared not move a muscle, and his face betrayed nothing of the tempest of feeling beneath.

"Make sure you put away the parts, too!" she said, heading inside with a friendly smile and a wave back at him, "Thanks Wrath!"

He watched her disappear into the house with a faint smile on his lips. As it turned out, he was rather glad that she had decided to stay out too late after all. He wheeled his bike around to the shed at the back of the house and slung the bag of new automail parts over his shoulder before closing the bike and locking the shed. He went inside, tossing the parts on the kitchen table with the intention of heading upstairs to bed. Instead, he came back outside a few minutes later with a glass of Panako's whiskey in his hand and sat down on the porch swing. He stared mutely at the full moon rising over the valley and took a swig of the fiery amber liquid, the swing beginning to sway rhythmically in the silence of the August night as a tempest of thoughts and emotion raged beneath his placid countenance.

As summer rolled on into autumn, the warm, lengthy days began to wane. The leaves began to change into brilliant hues of orange, red and yellow, flooding Risembool with a vibrancy that was nothing short of breathtaking. It was an Indian Summer that year, and the warmth and pleasant weather marched well into the end of September. Panako's condition steadily declined, and it wasn't long before Winry knew what Wrath had been told before. It was on one particularly balmy, magnificently painted day in late September that Wrath and Winry awoke to find Panako in the kitchen in her wheelchair with two large baskets packed and sitting by the door. She smiled broadly, despite her considerable weakness, and simply said, "We're going to the seashore today."

Without further discussion they loaded up the old truck, baskets, dog, and all, and drove down the coast road leading out of town toward a sleepy fishing village Panako knew from her youth. In the last few weeks, Panako had been suffering acutely, yet on this brilliant morning the broad smile on her face never faded. As Wrath steered the rickety old truck down the winding dirt road toward the seashore, her expression seemed to become more peaceful by the moment. At last they reached a little dirt lot not far from the beach where the breakers rolled in and foamed their way up the shimmering sand, only to retreat again. "Take me down," Panako said as the truck rumbled to a stop, "I want to feel the spray and smell the ocean."

Wrath pushed Panako's wheelchair along the beach as they walked together with Den following faithfully at their heels, the foaming waves lapping rhythmically at the shore beside them. The only sounds were the churning of the waves and the occasional cry of gulls. At last they came to a spot the old woman knew well, a place where a great oak tree reached its ancient branches out from the grassy plain and over the beach and a few barnacle encrusted rocks jutted out from the shore in a wavering line before tapering off into the salty sea. "Right here…"she said softly, "I used to play here as a child in the summertime, when I would visit my grandmother. Brought my son here too, when he was just a boy…" Wrath turned her wheelchair to face the ocean.

They stood there a long while watching the waves in comfortable silence with Den rollicking among the rocks chasing crabs before Wrath became aware of the faint, almost imperceptible sound of Winry's sobbing. He glanced at her to find her azure eyes staring out to sea and welling up with tears that ran down her soft, beautiful cheeks. He felt as though he had been stabbed in the heart; he wanted at once to comfort her, to ask what was wrong, to dry her tears, and yet he felt paralyzed. He glanced at Panako, thinking perhaps she might realize Winry's sadness and comfort her, but she was utterly still, the only motion was the gentle sea breeze playing in the few loose strands of her white hair. It dawned on Wrath in that moment why Winry was crying; this was the place Panako had chosen to die. Somehow she had known that it was her time, and she had chosen this spot and these two people to be with her at the moment she passed over to wherever sweet, aged grandmothers go. He stared out at the sea for a moment, thinking he couldn't have imagined a better place and time to die if he tried, and he hoped that Izumi had been in a place like this when death finally came to claim her. He was profoundly moved and humbled that of all the people she knew, which was probably every soul in Risembool, Panako had wanted only they two, and her faithful dog, to be with her in her time of dying. He smiled faintly as a tear rolled down his own cheek. At last, he wordlessly reached out and wrapped an arm around Winry's shoulder. She turned and buried her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly, her fists clenching around the back of his shirt as she sobbed deep, heavy sobs and her tears flowed freely. After a few moments, Den abandoned his frolic and trotted over, sitting beside Panako's chair. The old dog sniffed at her hand a couple of times before laying his chin over her arm with a gentle whine. She was gone, and now only the steady lapping of the waves and the whisper of the ocean breeze remained.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

There was a chill wind blowing across the hilltop, stirring the placid leaves of autumn into frenzied dance and playing among the silent gravestones. The sun was brilliant, yet cold, bringing little warmth to the world as it retreated before the pitiless march of winter. The whole populace of the town, it seemed, had gathered to mark Panako Rockbell's passing, and yet standing among old friends and casual acquaintances, all sympathy and words meant to be comforting, Winry had never felt so alone. The minister finished the eulogy and the gravediggers began their macabre task, cueing the huge crowd of mourners to file their way out of the graveyard and head back to the yellow house where a reception had been prepared. They each passed by Winry, giving a gentle smile or a pat on the shoulder, the occasional soft squeeze of her hand. "I'm so sorry, dear," the old ladies would say, "I know it's hard, but you'll be fine, you'll see." Or worse, "She lived a good long life. She's gone to a better place, now," as if there ever was an age old enough for the death of a loved one that meant their loss didn't hurt, a time when it was just okay for them to die. Winry smiled and nodded as best she could, thanking them for coming, but she couldn't hide the tears, and she didn't care. At last she and Wrath were the only two to remain. She was vaguely aware of his presence, but she stood in silent grief, staring at Panako's flower strewn headstone.

"I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it…she lived a long time, had a good life…" she said to nobody in particular, wiping her eyes. "She would scold me if she saw me carrying on like this…" She hurt deep down, like a piece of her heart was gone and the hole was crying out for what was lost.

Wrath, who had been standing quietly at the back of the crowd clad in a black military greatcoat, black trousers, and a formal shirt and tie borrowed from a neighbor, strode silently to her side. He gazed out over the valley for a moment, the wind playing through the sable strands of his hair and ruffling his coattail, "Is there such a thing as long enough?" he asked, glancing at her. She returned his gaze, a little taken aback by his question. "If there is, I don't know it…" he said gently, his dark stare locked with hers, "If there was, I don't know that homunculi would exist. Would any amount of time be long enough to have kept Edward and Alphonse from creating Sloth?"

Winry frowned; Wrath could tell she was annoyed by his broaching of that subject. She looked away, a pained expression on her face as the memories of that night of horrors tried to push their way into her mind's eye, "That was different…she died too young…it wasn't her time…"

"Who decides that?" he persisted, "Isn't that just what I said?" Winry shot an angry glance at him, her azure eyes flashing, but when she met his gaze her expression changed. She could see in his eyes not impishness nor petulance, but confusion and sorrow; his questions were entirely earnest, as though he was desperately searching, clutching at an understanding of the human condition that narrowly eluded his grasp, and it made her feel guilty for being angry. She saw the unspoken question, "_How long would have been long enough to keep Izumi from creating me?"_ Of course she should have realized that Izumi occupied his thoughts on a day like this; she knew he struggled with his memories of her, with the myriad of conflicting emotions surrounding her impetuous, hubristic, loving, compassionate, foolish, selfish, self sacrificing act in creating him. At times his inhumanity chilled her, despite her trust in him, and yet at times like this it was that very inhumanity, that otherness underscored by the deep desire to apprehend just what it meant to be human, that endeared him to her. "I'm sorry…I just meant…I just meant that you always hurt when you lose someone you love, no matter how long you had them with you," she said, smiling a little in spite of herself, "It's selfish, I guess, and it's not for us to decide how long someone lives…I guess the hurt you feel is just the proof you really loved them, that's all…"

Wrath gazed deeply into her eyes as he absorbed this statement, as if mulling it over in his mind. At length he nodded, satisfied by the answer, and turned his gaze over the windswept hillside toward their yellow house in the valley below, "So, what now?"

"We should head back…I'm sure the reception is underway by now. It would be rude if we didn't show…"

"That's not what I meant."

Winry turned to face Wrath, who glanced at her in his stoic way, then nodded back to the house, "How long are you going to stay here? What else is left for you?" He slipped his hands into his pockets, turning to face her with a casual tilt of his head. His face was cold, calm, his eyes piercing as he gazed at her, "Will you stay here the rest of your life?"

She looked back at him; he was daring her. He dared her with his dark eyes to shed the remnants of her old life, to cast off everything she knew and forge a new path. She gazed deeply into those midnight pools, with their catlike irises she had grown accustomed to, and yet which could still send a shiver down her spine, and she saw the faintest smile curl the corners of his lips. "I'll stay with you, whatever you decide. Your life, your choice," he said at length, as if he had no life of his own to speak of.

She averted her gaze; she didn't know the answer to that yet. She strode forward and walked past him, "See you back at the house. Want me to save you something?"

He shook his head as she passed, watching her stride solemnly down the hill toward the house. A cold gust of wind blasted the hillside, sending the leaves frantically whirling among the silent stones. Wrath turned up his collar as he watched Winry walk away; he sighed, gazing up at the gathering clouds as tears stung his eyes.

When the voices had died and the fire smoldered down to glowing embers, casting a warm, dim glow over the hearth, Winry sat alone on the settee, a glass of red wine, not her first, in her hand. She watched that glow in silence, lost in remembrance of her grandmother Panako. What would Panako say? What would she tell her to do? What should she do now? Where should she go? The grandfather clock tolled one and she was shaken from her reverie; she took another sip and swirled the sweet wine around the glass a couple of times. She had kicked off her socks and sat barefoot, warming her toes by the fire. She wiggled them a little and smiled as a thought came to her mind, a kind of resolution.

Wrath had returned a few hours before, but after most of the guests had left. He had almost immediately tromped down to his workbench in the basement and there remained. Now she heard his unmistakable footfalls, one real, one automail, as he ascended the basement stairs. The door opened and shut with a creak and he stopped at the threshold of the living room. She heard him rest his automail hand against the frame, as if wordlessly requesting permission to break her solitude. She smiled faintly, though of course he couldn't see it, and gave him a wave, "Come in; have a seat." He strolled in, wiping his hands with a rag before stuffing it in his back pocket. He flopped himself carelessly in a wingback chair facing the fire; he was on her left and she lolled her head around, faintly feeling the influence of the sweet red wine, and regarded him with a quizzical squint, "What are you always tinkering away with down there, anyways?"

He shrugged and flexed his mechanical hand, "I needed some adjustments. Not easy to work left handed on your own arm, you know!" She smirked in amusement at him, "Why didn't you just let me do it? Geeze you're weird sometimes…"

He looked away with a mischievous grin, watching the embers glowing in the fireplace, "Didn't want to bother you with it…you have other things on your mind. Good practice anyways. So?" He abruptly punctuated his statement with the pointed question, effectively changing the subject. She knew of course what he meant.

"I've given it a lot of thought, and I realize we can't stay here. At first I felt obligated, like I would be betraying grandma if I left, but then I realized what she would tell me if she was here. She would tell me to be fearless, to live my own life, to go out and find what the world has to offer, what I can offer the world."

Wrath grinned, his shark-like teeth shining in the firelight. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees in eager anticipation, looking a bit like the wild young boy he had once been, "And?"

"We're selling the house and moving to Rush Valley. I'm taking the name of Rockbell's Automail and going big time."

She downed the last sip of her wine, setting the glass on the side table to her right as she stood. She padded over to him, her bare footfalls breaking the silence, and gently rested her hand over his as she stood beside his chair. She bent down, planting a soft kiss on his forehead, "Thanks for being there for me today, Wrath…it really helped." She turned away and strode off to bed, her fingertips dragging across the back of his hand before breaking contact. He blinked in surprise; it was the most unabashedly affectionate gesture she had ever made toward him, and though he wondered how much of it was motivated by the wine, it sent a thrill through him he wouldn't soon forget.

The grandfather clock tolled two, its thunderous voice bellowing through the haze of Wrath's fatigue. Following the kiss he had plodded down the steps once again to his cellar workbench and poured over the machinery beneath the roll top. He had fallen into exhausted sleep at some point, but as the tolling of the bells faded, he became aware of a hazy green light piercing the cellar gloom; it was coming from above his desk. He stood up and saw it streaming from the window. He wound his way up the twisting stairs and his nostrils were assaulted with the odor of moldering earth. He found the door above his head and shoved it open; he clambered up from the opening and gazed about him.

The full moon was directly overhead, bathing everything in a sickly green glow. He was standing in a graveyard surrounded by a wrought iron fence. There were several graves around him, including the one he had just stepped out of, and the doghouse that stood nearby was empty, the chain broken. Before him loomed an enormous grey stone house, its monolithic walls over crept by the tendrils of ivy vines that wound their way around the chimney and cascaded down from the eaves. The windows were all dark, and there was something both of the foreboding and the familiar in this house, though he strained to determine if he had been there before; he had not. There was a rustling in the bushes and a howl on the wind.

He was at the door with the bone yard behind him, and curiously he found it ajar. He pushed his way inside and the door closed behind him. Wrath found himself inside a dark, sparsely furnished living room. Directly ahead of him, a huge fireplace with a red brick chimney rose up from a broad stone hearth on the hardwood floor. There were windows surrounding the room through which the sickly green glow streamed, casting dancing shadows on the bare, dusty boards. Not far from the hearth sat a chair, or rather a throne, composed of bayonets. Acrid smoke wafted across the floorboards; the flue was clogged.

A sense of dread began to fill Wrath as he slowly stepped closer to the fireplace; a few embers glowed there, casting foreboding shadows over the throne of bayonets and the worn floorboards. To the left there was a staircase leading up, to the right was a door way leading into another room. He thought he heard someone faintly singing, but their voice was far in the distance, very faint, and muffled as if obscured by something. It was impossible to make out who it was. He turned to look back at the door, and to his horror he found it ajar, a stream of the greenish glow creeping across the dark, dusty floor.

When he turned back around, he found there was a rug in front of the fire that hadn't been there a moment before, and for some inexplicable reason this only served to heighten the feeling of dread and foreboding. He took a step back, wanting desperately to leave, only to turn and find himself face to face with Fuhrer Bradley…Pride, standing before him and smiling in his disarming, sinister, diabolical way. His hands were clasped behind his back and the corners of his evil smile drew back further as he gazed at Wrath standing before him, "Going so soon?"

Wrath clenched his fists, preparing to fight his way out. The blade plunged through his heart. He choked, blood seeping from his mouth as he looked up at Pride's menacing smile. He clasped the blade in his hands, choking on his blood, feeling his life seeping from him and pooling on the floor. He looked down and saw his own mechanical hand, bloodless, wrapped around the hilt and pressing it deeper into its target. He looked up toward the tip in sheer, unadulterated horror to see Winry's face looking back at him, contorted in agony, blood seeping from her mouth as she tried desperately to keep the blade from plunging deeper; he was killing her. He tried to pull back, but couldn't. From the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of glowing white, saucer-like eyes peering at him through one of the windows, the creature possessing the eyes merely a black shapeless darkness outside the window. The reflection of him in the window showed him dressed in Pride's uniform, an eye patch covering his left eye. He tried to scream in horror but his throat was shut; Winry screamed a horrible, gurgling death scream as he drove the sword through her and pinned her to the floor.

Wrath sat bolt upright in bed, clasping the sheets and gasping in horror. He frantically looked around him, terror clutching at his heart as he panted for breath. He was in his own bed, in his room upstairs, dressed in his boxers. The moonlight outside the window was a cool blue, and beyond his window he could see the familiar grassy fields swaying languidly in the night breeze. His breathing began to slow as the confusion of the nightmare faded and he remembered coming upstairs to bed shortly after Winry. He shuddered involuntarily as he considered the hideous nightmare. He decided not to think about it until the morning. He lay down and closed his eyes, hoping not to return to the stone house in front of the graveyard.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The emerald countryside rambled past the old, bleary train car windows, their venerable panes faintly streaked with traces of city smog. It gave the rolling fields and farms, with their quaint, humble thatched-roof cottages, a kind of dreamy, ethereal look. Here and there a grazing dairy cow would pause from her chewing to watch the rickety old train rumble by. The sun was high on a lovely late autumn afternoon in the Amestrian countryside as the train rambled along, leaving the quaint fields of Risembool far behind on its way toward Rush Valley. The countryside gradually became arid and rocky outside the panes as Wrath lounged on the plush bench seat of the private compartment he shared with Winry Rockbell.

Bored, he chanced a furtive glance in her direction; she sat in silence, yet her whole form buzzed with an irrepressible energy. Her expression was one of bittersweet apprehension, of excitement tinged with a hint of sorrow. She glanced toward him; he was caught. He turned his head to face her, gazing unabashedly, fearlessly into her eyes, and she looked back. She forced her ambivalent, wistful countenance to surrender to the thrill of anticipation and smiled at her companion, the kind of warm, kindhearted, magnificent smile that made his heart pound. She broke the silence, "It's going to be incredible, Wrath! You should see the place I picked out for our new shop!"

_Our new shop_: he couldn't help but like the ring of that. He smiled back, his sharp white teeth flashing a little in the afternoon sunbeams, "I bet. They're not going to know what hit them when Rockbell Automail opens up in town. So tell me, is this city really as amazing as you said? I've never been there, you know; let's hear everything!"

Winry's deep blue eyes practically sparkled as she leaned forward in her seat, "It's incredible! They have the most amazing automail there, all the latest designs from the biggest and best houses. Every sort of design you can think of, and all the best components. You can get just about any part; I bet they've got stuff we haven't even heard of yet! And because of the concentration of automail engineers, it attracts a huge market and even some foreigners visit looking for the latest technology. Plus, it's quite a nice city, nestled in a large canyon in the foothills. The place I found is on one of the main feeder streets off the main drag, so we ought to get lots of exposure, but without being right on the busiest road."

Wrath smiled and stretched out his legs, crossing the real over the artificial one, until his boots rested just beneath Winry's bench. He leaned back and slipped his hands behind his head, letting his eyes slip closed, "Sounds like you've got it all figured out, then."

"I'm gonna need your help, you know…even more than before," Winry said. Wrath opened one eye and looked at her. He smiled coyly, gazing at her from beneath his long raven hair, "Don't worry, you know I'm always there for you." She blushed a little and smiled, turning to look out the window again, "Yeah, I guess you are…"

The afternoon was long spent and the sun was hanging low as the train rumbled into the central station at Rush Valley. As they stepped on to the platform, their senses were assaulted by the teeming throng of the big city. Wrath was taken aback; he had never experienced quite this degree of activity before. He stood silently for a moment, taking in the scene as travelers rushed about the platform. Winry gave him a nudge and flashed a smile, "Come on, we need to get to the shop before the truck drops off all our cargo. They're due in about two hours, so I figured it would be just enough time to grab some dinner and walk over there. What do you say?"

Wrath blinked in surprise at her suggestion; was she asking him on a date? He summoned his courage and composed himself, putting on his best tough guy, nonchalant expression and nodding back, "Sure, sounds good." Winry grinned back at him and they set out together, descending the steps from the platform. Wrath was scanning his surroundings, instinctively evaluating the faces he passed in the crowd, ensuring there was no threat. There was nothing; just travelers and businesspeople, intermingled with the occasional harmless looking vagabond begging for spare coins. He puffed a quiet sigh and was about to relax when he became aware of something dark in his peripheral vision.

There was something crouched in an alleyway between two of the station buildings; it seemed to be peering out at him from the inky shadows, watching him stroll by. He stopped in his tracks; its white saucer-eyes seemed to be fixed on him. He felt his blood run cold; it was shaped like a huge black dog, and he was overwhelmed with the feeling those cold, deathly eyes had fixed on him once before, though he couldn't think where or when. He steeled himself and turned to look directly at the ghoulish thing haunting the alley, but as his eyes tried to fix on its shadowy form, the creature evanesced rapidly, even before he could focus enough to see what it really was. He blinked hard, but it was completely gone.

"Wrath!"

Winry's peevish interjection brought him back to the present. He looked at her dumbfounded, his mouth parted slightly, "Uhh…did you see a dog in that alley just now?"

Winry furrowed her brow in annoyance, "…there's nothing in there. Anyways, who cares? I'm sure there's tons of strays running around here. Let's get going, okay?"

Wrath glanced back at the alley; it was still empty. His gaze darted surreptitiously around the environment, glancing at windows, doorways, shadowy corners, but he found nothing. He scratched the back of his head, then shrugged in resignation and trotted up beside Winry, heading out toward the street in front of the station.

They made their way to a local café that Winry had visited on her last trip to Rush Valley. Together they sat down to a meal of delicious chili and a side of vegetables and garlic bread. Wrath tried his best to remain jovial and focus on the excitement of the new city and the start of their own automail atelier, but the sinister, ethereal figure of the black dog with the stark white eyes haunted his mind's eye. He felt a sense of foreboding, as though something dark and terrible was lurking around the corner. Winry noticed the shadow that had fallen over his features, and she paused, reaching across the table to gently touch his hand. He started and gazed into her eyes in response. A gentle smile crossed her lips, "Hey, what's on your mind? You seem preoccupied with something."

He gazed across at her for a moment, considering how to phrase his reply, until at length he said, "Did you notice that this town seems a little…I don't know, run down?"

Winry blinked a little in surprise; she hadn't really thought about it, but now that Wrath brought it up, there did seem to be a certain pall of decay hanging over the city. The people they had seen seemed somewhat anxious, and there seemed to have been more graffiti and broken, boarded windows than one would have expected. She mused for a moment, furrowing her lovely brow slightly, "Well, it could just be that this corner of town is a little seedy…I mean, every city has its sketchier neighborhoods, right?"

Wrath nodded slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right…" he said, "I'm probably just being paranoid. Forget I said anything."

They passed the remainder of the meal in jovial, light hearted conversation, preferring not to dwell on the strangeness that had marked their arrival in town. Their plates and glasses empty, Wrath settled the tab with a few bills, tossing a small handful of coins on the table as they departed by way of a tip.

They passed out into the street just as the lamps were flaring to life for the evening, casting their pallid yellow glow over the darkening cobbles. Wrath paused to take a quick look at the street, then extended the crook of his left arm in gentlemanly fashion, a gesture which Winry found somewhat surprising. Undaunted, however, she slipped her arm contently around his and together they strolled off through the waning light of the setting sun, increasingly awash in the street lamps' glow.

It was just then that Winry became aware of the black attaché case Wrath carried in his right hand; it occurred to her that he had been carrying it since they got on the train. Her curiosity piqued, she nodded toward it, "Whatcha got in there?"

Wrath's form seemed to stiffen slightly, but the sensation quickly passed. She looked up at him and he glanced at her nonchalantly, "Nothing really, just some tools; don't trust those baggage handlers, you know?"

Winry, satisfied with this answer, replied with a shrug. With the rounding of the next corner, they found themselves standing before the aged edifice of a well worn industrial building. Its two storey façade was constructed of warm hued red brick with stone corner reinforcement. Its windows, thankfully all intact, were deep set and of leaded pane construction, ascending to a gothic arch at the top of each. The bottom of each window was marked by a large stone sill that jutted forward from the wall. It had a dramatic flair that Wrath couldn't help but appreciate.

The front door was a huge, double hung heavy oak affair with a smaller rectangular door set into it; the design was meant to permit vehicles to pass through when fully open while providing a smaller, more practical door for entry and exit of individuals. Above it, a wrought iron signpost thrust straight out over the street, complete with two iron rings intended to hold a sign, but presently unoccupied. Winry grinned and skipped forward, turning toward him, her arms flung wide, "Well!?"

Wrath smiled wryly, gazing at her for a moment before looking over the whole edifice of the structure; he couldn't deny it had an imposing, yet elegant presence. He gave a nod, "You picked a winner, I'd say."

Winry giggled with delight, "I figured you'd say something like that. Oh, hey, just wait here a sec, okay? I have a little surprise for you and I want to see if it's arrived!" She turned and dashed to the door, fishing a wrought iron key from her pocket, unlocking the small entry door and disappearing inside. The door shut with a metallic clunk and Wrath was alone in the street. He gazed up at the imposing structure in silent contemplation.

"Mmmm…damn, that is one fine piece of ass…"

Wrath's musings were abruptly and lewdly intruded upon by a voice coming from the alleyway behind him. He half turned and shot a cold, hate-filled glare in the direction of the voice. Three rough, disheveled looking young men sauntered from the darkness and grinned luridly at him. They were shabbily dressed, and one of them took a swig from a dingy whiskey bottle before tossing it into a nearby trash heap. The shortest of the group, a muscular young man wearing a black flat-cap and smoking a cheap, acrid cigarette, stepped forward, "Guess you're the new kid on the block, huh? That's one hot little bitch you got there…wouldn't mind taking her for a ride…hehe…"

Wrath glared murderously at them, his dark, serpentine eyes burning with rage, though he remained silent for the moment. He fully turned to face them, never taking his eyes off the apparent leader as he set down his black attaché case. A cool evening breeze rushed down the otherwise empty street and ruffled through his overcoat tail.

"Mmm yessir, we own this part of town, and anyone wants to move into our turf needs our permission, see? And I don't think you got our permission. Gonna have to take our toll out of that hot little blonde you got in there…"

Wrath scowled, clenching his fists, his heart thudding in his chest as rage boiled up inside him. He grinned wickedly, his shark-like teeth flashing in the dim lamplight, "If you so much as touch her, I'll tear out your heart and feed it to you," he growled, his voice guttural and menacing. He could feel the old fury building, clawing at the edges of his sanity, threatening to break loose and unleash a berserker onslaught on the three impetuous humans who stood before him.

The leader stepped closer and blew a cloud of smoke toward him, "Oh really? I don' think you get what I'm sayin, boy! Guess I'm gonna have to…"

"..._be on your way home!_" The thug's words were cut short as a long hickory police baton thudded across his chest, "Isn't that right, Jimmy?"

Both Wrath and his assailant turned their gaze toward the source of the sudden interruption. Somehow, a female police constable had approached them unnoticed, and it was her long black hickory nightstick that was now crossed in front of Jimmy's chest, separating him from Wrath. She wore dark brown leather gloves on her hands and a matching brown leather Sam Browne belt. Her dark navy uniform was impeccably pressed, with sharp creases down the sleeves and trousers. Her black leather jackboots were polished almost to mirror sheen, and her peak cap's shiny black brim was set forward, obscuring her eyes. A silver shield badge affixed to her shirt blazed in the evening lamp light. Her left hand held the truncheon across the street thug's chest, while her right hand rested nonchalantly, but menacingly on the rosewood butt of the service revolver in her holster; her thumb was already poised on the hammer spur.

"We was just…" Jimmy began to protest, but was silenced by the constable snapping the tip of her baton up under his chin, pressing it into his throat slightly. "_**Leaving…**_" she growled, driving her point home by lifting his chin uncomfortably with the tip of her nightstick. The bully glanced down at her gun, then back at her uncompromising face, and cracked an insincere, halfhearted smile, "Right….right, we were just heading on our way."

The other two thugs glanced at their leader, then thrust their hands angrily in their pockets and retreated into the darkness. Jimmy stepped back, spreading his arms wide in a melodramatic gesture, "See you around, pal…bet on that."

With that, he turned and quickly vanished into the nearby alley where his comrades had retreated. Wrath's hate-filled gaze followed them until they disappeared from sight, then he turned to head into the shop. He was stopped in his tracks by the female constable barring his way, her leather clad finger pointed at him as though she were an aggravated schoolteacher, "Just one minute, mister!"

Wrath stopped, narrowing his dark eyes at her. She continued, meeting his gaze undaunted, "I know what you were thinking of just then, and you better realize I won't stand for it! You're new around here, so I'm gonna cut you some slack, but you better steer clear of that crew, you get me? I'm not gonna have a bloodbath on my beat!"

Wrath smiled his broadest, most unsettling smile and slid his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, a gesture he knew would be perceived as threatening by a police officer. He tilted his head in mock playfulness, "Oh? You say that as though you could stop me…"

Her grip tightened around the butt of her revolver; the gesture was not at all lost on her: the hands always presented the threat.

"Hey Wrath, you can co…oh! Who is this?"

The conversation was interrupted by Winry bursting through the front door; she stood gawking for a moment, surprised to see a police officer standing in front of her shop. The constable furrowed her brow and leaned over, peering around Wrath at the attractive blonde standing in the doorway, "W…Winry?!"

Winry blinked; she knew that voice! She squinted, peering through the dim light at the features of the officer. Wrath glanced back at Winry in surprise and confusion, then stepped aside so that the light cast fully onto the constable's features. As he watched, Winry's eyes widened with recognition and a broad, welcoming and joyful smile spread across her face, "No way…Paninya?!"

The constable whipped her peak cap from her head, fully revealing herself to Wrath for the first time; she was a young woman of about the same age as Winry, perhaps a little bit older, with an olive complexion and dark hazel eyes. Her black hair was drawn back into a taut, low bun. She was actually quite beautiful, her appearance exotic and uncharacteristic of most of the citizens of Amestris; it crossed Wrath's mind that perhaps some Ishbalan blood might flow in her veins. At the sound of her name, all tension drained from her features, only to be replaced with girlish excitement and surprise, "Winry! What are you doing here?!"

Wrath shot a quizzical look at Winry, waiting for an explanation. Winry bounded out of the door and threw herself into a wholehearted, exuberant embrace around Paninya. She let go and stepped back, holding Paninya's shoulders, "It's so great to see a familiar face! You need to come in and visit, it's been ages since we've seen each other!" Wrath frowned, his mouth half open to protest, but Winry and Paninya had already disappeared, giggling and chattering, into the workshop entrance. He released a sharp sigh and stared in annoyance for a moment at the open door before resigning himself, collecting his case and striding inside.

Pausing in the foyer, Wrath swung the door shut behind him as he gazed around the room; it consisted of a decent sized sitting area with benches situated behind the front windows of the building, a large oak counter dividing the room in half, and some shelving units behind the counter. The large counter had glass display cases built into the front of it to display merchandise, and in the center, there was a flip-up opening to allow staff members to pass through to the large, heavily paneled double doors behind which led, apparently, to the workshop itself. On the far left, there was a smaller door situated behind the counter which Wrath surmised led either to a storage closet or a staircase to the basement. On the opposite end, the counter made a sharp turn to permit a corridor leading to the washroom for patrons to use. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and yet the entire effect was certainly impressive. Wrath could hear excited, girlish chattering coming from the next room and for a moment he hesitated to enter that estrogenic scene, but he shrugged his shoulders in resignation and pushed his way through the heavy oak door.

The cavernous workshop was dimly lit by the flame of a kerosene lantern set in the center of the table off to the left where Winry and Paninya already sat immersed in excited conversation. It was central to a small kitchenette and eating area, apparently intended as a kind of makeshift lunch room. The percolator on the gas stove against the wall was already beginning to bubble intermittently, permeating the area with the rich aroma of fresh coffee.

Wrath strode into the yawning chasm of inky shadow that was the workshop floor. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light, he could make out more of the shop's interior. It was a large open area with thick stone walls matching the exterior of the building. He could see a pair of long workbenches situated toward the middle of the space with an aisle between, as well as rows of workbenches on the far wall with shelving units built in above them with countless drawers and cabinets perfect for holding all manner of hardware needed for constructing and servicing automail. Further back toward the rear of the structure stood a forge, anvil, cooling vat, as well as a drill press and grinder.

To his right he could see a carved oak staircase of considerable beauty despite its age which led up to a loft above. On the opposite side of the floor from the stairs was a large caged-in hydraulic freight elevator, which by all appearances serviced the basement as well as the ground floor and loft. About half the depth of the building comprised two stories, while the remainder which housed most of the workshop floor was open up to the high vaulted ceiling with its steel I-beam girders and trusses. Clerestory windows ran the full length of the walls in this open portion, and given that this structure was taller than those flanking it, they would no doubt offer plenty of natural light in the daytime.

Wrath paused a moment, standing in the center of the workshop and following the staircase with his eyes toward the loft above; he could see that behind the railing was a catwalk, and behind that a pair of rooms on either side of the building with a corridor between them leading toward the front. Beyond the fact that the front of the room to his left was spanned by windows, probably an office, and the other room had no windows visible, he could see nothing else without ascending the stairs.

"Wrath, come join us, wouldja? You haven't even been introduced to Paninya yet!" Winry gently chided, feeling rather uplifted by the sight of an old friend in this new, unfamiliar home.

Wrath dropped his gaze to the table with its flickering lantern and the two smiling faces of the girls seated there. He let out a faint sigh and set his case on the end of one of the workbenches before strolling over and pulling up a chair. He sat down and leaned back, casting a glance at Winry before turning to face Paninya, "Sorry about earlier…" he began hesitantly, "If I had known you were a friend of Winry's…"

Paninya let out a chuckle and waved her hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it, I can come on a little strong myself at times. This neighborhood has been a bit rough lately, I'm sorry to say, so I guess I've been on edge a lot. Sorry we got off on the wrong foot; I'm Paninya Lecoulte, pleased to meet you!" The girl smiled warmly and held out her hand; she was more pleasant and congenial than her sharply pressed uniform and resolute expression initially suggested. Wrath silently shook her hand, though he punctuated the gesture with a genuine, if reserved, smile.

Winry, who had risen to attend to the coffee, was irked by Wrath's silence; she turned before lifting the percolator from the stove and curtly interjected, "This is Wrath Curtis, he's an old friend and my new business partner. I wish he was as good with manners as he is with a wrench!"

Paninya stifled a chuckle, "Don't sweat it, Winry! Just pour us all a cup of that coffee you've got there; it smells great and I've got a long beat ahead of me before I'm finished." She glanced across at Wrath, "Wrath…that's kind of an unusual name…is it foreign, by any chance?" Winry suddenly looked very nervous, but Wrath never missed a beat, "My mother was from Xing, but my father was from Dublith; I hear it's a more common name over there. Her name was Izumi."

Paninya nodded and her smile broadened, "Izumi…that's a beautiful name. I wondered if you might be from Xing with that jet black hair and those dark eyes of yours."

Winry returned to the table and set down a tray with three large coffee mugs. She poured some of the steaming black brew into each and handed one to Paninya and Wrath. Paninya reached for the sugar and dumped a heaping spoonful into her cup. Wrath, who had been intently observing her, took a sip of his coffee without bothering to sweeten it, before interjecting, "You mentioned something about this neighborhood being rough lately?"

Paninya's face fell slightly and she paused with her cup part way to her lips. She looked across at Wrath over her mug as she took a sip. "Well, since the fall of Fuhrer Bradley, the control of the central authority has crumbled somewhat…without the military keeping everyone under their thumb, things have gotten a little…wild, shall we say? Especially in cities like this one, far from Central. We've had our hands full in some of the districts keeping things under control, and the political and economic upheaval created by the instability just makes things worse. We've had a big problem in this district with gang activity. All the out of work military rejects that got purged from the army after Bradley was killed aren't helping matters either, as you can no doubt imagine."

Wrath's lips were set in a grim, taut line, and Winry had turned pale, her eyes wide; she was seriously beginning to wonder if it was really such a good idea to set up shop in Rush Valley. Paninya glanced from one to the other before setting her mug down and letting out an uneasy chuckle, "Ah, sorry, it's not all bad, really! Still plenty of decent folks around and there's still a booming market for automail. You guys will do just fine! Just be careful and keep your wits about you, that's all I'm saying. Besides, you've got me looking out for you, and you know I've got the best automail in the valley!" Paninya grinned and rolled up her sleeve, revealing the shining metal skin of her automail arm.

"Second best!" Winry shot back with a grin, feeling the tension drain away again.

Wrath blinked in surprise, "You have automail?"

Paninya nodded, "Yep; more than you do, I'm guessing. Right arm and left leg, am I right? I notice these things, comes with being a cop and the daughter of an automailer I guess. I've got one up on you." She patted both her knees, the unnatural metallic sound revealing that both her legs were automail from the knees down. "Comes in handy for kicking butt on the beat, you know what I mean?"

Wrath grinned and nodded, beginning to warm to this new acquaintance. He liked her attitude. He took another swig of his coffee and set the mug down before rising from his chair, "Well, it's been a pleasure, Officer Lecoulte…"

"Paninya!" she replied with mock churlishness.

"Paninya," Wrath smiled back, "It's been a pleasure, but I'm going to head to bed. It's been a long day and I need to get started early tomorrow whipping this place into shape for opening day." With that, he turned and strode toward the stairs, taking his leather attaché case from the end of the workbench as he passed. He ascended the stairs, the moonlight now streaming in through the clerestory windows sufficient to light the hallway at the top. As he reached the mid-point of the staircase, Winry suddenly snapped her fingers as if a recollection had come upon her, "Wrath, wait!"

Wrath paused, one hand on the railing, and peered down at her quizzically. Winry jumped from her seat and ran over to what appeared to be a large flat slab of some sort with a dust sheet covering it; somehow it had gone unnoticed before. With a flourish, she whisked off the sheet, revealing a large painted sign board; it was a light steely gray background with deep red painted lettering which read:

W & W'S

AUTOMAIL ATELIER

Between the two lines of large lettering was a crest which consisted of two crossed wrenches superimposed on a large cogwheel, rendered in highly polished and embossed brass. It was a very dramatic and eye catching design, and its execution was masterful. No doubt Winry had invested a significant sum in having it made. She grinned broadly up at him, "Surprise!"

Wrath was stunned; he had never fully considered himself an equal partner in the enterprise. He had always considered himself merely an assistant to Winry, merely an apprentice to her master craftswoman, yet she was saying unmistakably that she considered him in every way her equal. He grinned back at her, feigning nonchalance despite being profoundly moved by the gesture, "Looks great! Of course, I'm the first 'W', right?"

Winry tugged down her eyelid and blew a raspberry at him, "In your dreams, goofball! Now get to bed, we've got an early start tomorrow. I'll wait up until the truck gets here with the baggage. Your room is the one on the left at the very end of the hall. Night!"

With that, Wrath flashed a bemused smile and continued up the staircase, disappearing from their sight in moments. They could hear his footfalls on the catwalk, but they faded into obscurity as he headed down the hall.

Paninya watched him depart, waiting until he was out of earshot down the corridor before turning to Winry with a devilish smile, "Winry…he is _gorgeous_! Where did you find a hot guy like that living out in the sticks! How long have you guys been an item? I thought you had the hots for that Edward guy last time you were here, come on, spill it! Omigosh, did you guys get married?! Are you pregnant?! _Tell me everything_!"

Winry had turned bright red under the withering onslaught of Paninya's questioning, she waved her hands frantically as she sputtered a bewildered reply, "N..no! He's…I mean I didn't…Wrath and I are just friends, okay? And partners-_business_ partners!"

"Just business, eh?" Paninya intoned coyly, leaning closer and scrutinizing Winry's flushed face. Winry frowned, "Yes!"

Paninya grinned, leaning back in her chair and glancing up at the stairs, then back at Winry, "Well, I might have considered asking you to play matchmaker if I wasn't fairly sure it isn't _just business_ on his end…"

Winry, who had stood up to grab the percolator from the counter to freshen their coffee, furrowed her brow at Paninya, "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

Paninya stared incredulously at Winry for a moment, then burst out into a hearty laugh, "You're just too much sometimes, Winry…nevermind, forget I said anything." With that, she rose to her feet, politely declining a refill of her empty mug, "Need to get back on the beat or the Sergeant will have my head. Great seeing you again!"

"You too!" Winry said with a smile and a wave. She watched Paninya disappear back through the front door, then sat back down at the table. She glanced at the broad signboard gleaming faintly in the flickering light of the kerosene lamp on the table and was unable to keep herself from squirming in her seat and letting out a squeal of delight.

Meanwhile, Wrath was settling into his room. It was of a decent size, with a large Gothic-arched window on the right through which the pallid moonlight streamed, flooding the room in an iridescent glow. This window of course was one of those Wrath noticed on their arrival. Immediately to the left upon entering was a large mahogany wardrobe, while directly ahead was a single bed with a small nightstand of the same chestnut finish as the wardrobe. On the left wall by the bed stood a bookshelf with several obscure volumes on its worn shelves.

Wrath set his case down in front of the wardrobe and slowly walked around the room; it was apparent that Winry had arranged for a cleaner to come through and tidy the bedrooms as there was no dust on anything in this room and the bed was made up with crisp cotton sheets and a simple quilt. It looked extremely inviting.

Wrath regarded it for a moment, considering just how pleasant it would be to simply lose himself in sleep, but a faint flutter in shadowy corners of his mind made him pause. He turned to the window and set his palms against the stone wall on either side of the frame, gazing out at the gas lit streets below. All was quiet; not a soul to be seen. He searched the shadows of every alley and doorway, checked every window, yet there was no sign of human life stirring in that inexorable stillness.

The silence and stillness of the night began to oppress him, as though it were a tangible thing pressing in on him, like a beast's breath hot on the back of his neck. He sighed and pulled down the shade, blocking most of the moonlight and casting the room in a cloak of shadows. He stripped down to his boxers, casting his clothes into a pile in the corner, and flopped onto the bed. He pulled up the covers and clasped his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

He stared at it for a long while it seemed, fading in and out of wakefulness, drifting slowly into sleep until finally he nodded off.

He awoke with a violent start and sat bolt upright in bed; he had no conception of how long he had been sleeping, but it seemed like eternity. He cast his eyes about for the reason for his awakening but there was nothing to see. After a breathless moment staring into the darkness, the reason became clear; there was a faint scratching coming from his wardrobe, like something inside was clawing at the wooden door panels, trying to get out. Through the sickly green glow flooding in the window, Wrath's gaze locked on the crack that marked the opening between the doors. It widened, slowly at first, and the scratching ceased. Something was coming out.

Something black and foul poked out of the abyssal darkness inside, then slowly it emerged further until first one, then two ghostly white saucer-eyes peered menacingly at him from the thin crack between the wooden doors. He could hear the thing's guttural breathing; it was deep, slow and hungry. He was frozen and unable to move. It seemed to melt through the crack and disappear beneath the foot of his bed. Silence. For a moment Wrath thought it was gone.

Suddenly it burst up from the floor and lighted on the foot of his bed, its pitiless white eyes burning through him, its jagged teeth spread into a hideous, appalling, humorless grin. Its broad, writhing, inky black body loomed over him in the darkness; it was the Black Dog.

Wrath stared at it in stunned silence for a breathless moment, paralyzed by shock and horror. As he watched, its gruesome jaws slowly parted, the diabolical grin never fading, and it croaked out a single word in a foul, gurgling, inhuman voice, "…_miiiine_!"

Wrath roared in fury and terror, lashing out violently with his steel fist. His blow narrowly missed the creature as it lunged backward and disappeared through his bedroom door. He leapt from his bed and chased after it, finding himself in a graveyard flooded in pale greenish light.

On the far side stood the great stone house, its windows dark and its walls choked with ivy vines that spread from the chimney at the top nearly to the ground floor windows. He turned around to find the door slamming behind him and the smoke billowing around his feet. He turned back and saw the throne of bayonets, the fire place spewing smoke into the room and the rug, only now the Black Dog lay curled upon it, grinning and staring at him again.

It cocked its head to one side slightly, but in the most disturbing, unnatural way possible, serving only to make it more grotesque than before. "Miiiiine…!" it said, its voice a gruesome, raspy sigh, almost like a greeting.

The faint, halting sound of music floated to Wrath's ears, as though from somewhere far away. He couldn't quite make out the tune, and yet as soon as the sound reached his ears, the Black Dog began to growl viciously, like an angry hell hound. He coughed as the room became more and more inundated with smoke; something was clogging the flue.

He turned and began to search, seeking the source of the music. He ran along the walls, checking the windows, but saw only bleakness bathed in sickly green outside their grimy panes. He could hear the Black Dog's foul breaths behind him, getting closer with each step; it was following him. He walked faster, searching everywhere for the source of the faraway music. It was beckoning him. He found a door hidden beneath the staircase by the fire, and reaching out he grasped the handle and pulled it; the door began to open.

"Wr…Wraaaatthh…"

It was Winry's voice, but in a harsh, deathly whisper, as if she was gasping her last breath. In horror he turned to see her lying on the floor at his feet with her throat torn open and the Black Dog bowed over her, gore dripping from its jaws.

He roared in fury and drew back his fist, intent on crushing the disgusting beast's skull in, but suddenly its head snapped up and he froze; it was his own face grinning back at him, the blood still dripping from his shark-like teeth.

"Why should she be any different? Failed me, failed her…"

A deathly cold hand came to rest on his shoulder, without softness of flesh. From the corner of his vision he saw desiccated bones. He didn't want to see, didn't want to know what macabre visage awaited him, but he was compelled as if by some unseen force to turn and face it. He came face to face with the decayed corpse of Izumi Curtis, her eye sockets black empty holes, her slack jaw hanging limply, her flesh merely shriveled leather stretched taut over rotten bones. Her bony fingers wrapped around his throat.

He screamed and threw himself back, pushing away the horror, the grotesquery that threatened to consume him, and felt himself falling. As he fell through darkness, he heard the music again, clearer this time, and someone calling his name.

Wrath roared with terror and rage, scrambling up from the floor and throwing off the tangled heap of blankets and pillows surrounding him. He cast his gaze frantically around the room, his fists clenched and ready. The silent, tidy, moonlit room he fell asleep in met his gaze. The wardrobe was firmly shut, the shade still drawn as he had left it. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, finding he was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, as if he had been in a fight. He was standing in a heap of blankets as he had apparently fallen out of bed; it had all been a horrible nightmare.

Suddenly the door burst open and Winry jumped inside with a raucous battle cry, her wrench waving above her head. She was clad only in her long night dress, the white satin shimmering in the moonlight. She stood in the middle of the room, wrench still held aloft, eyes scanning every crevice for a hidden enemy. At length it dawned on her that she and Wrath were quite alone and she dropped her arms to her sides and looked rather sheepishly at him, "Umm…what happened? I heard you scream like someone was trying to kill you!"

He gazed at her as she stood there bathed in moonlight, and he couldn't help but remember the night in Risembool when she had first awakened the feelings that now churned within him. He brushed his wild black hair from his face and forced himself to smile faintly, "Sorry…I guess I just had a nightmare. Sorry I woke you…it was about…" He hesitated, turning to face the window, suddenly feeling extremely exposed and self-conscious.

Winry was across the room in a moment. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and nestled her head under his chin. Instinctively she stroked her palm up and down his back, "Hey, it's okay…it was about Izumi, wasn't it? It's alright, you don't have to apologize."

Wrath was frozen in shock, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of her closeness. How could she possibly have sensed that his nightmare involved Izumi? At length he gently wrapped his arms around her waist and returned her embrace, "I'm alright, thanks…you should probably get back to sleep, I'll be fine." He could smell her hair, feel the tingling caress of her fingertips across the bare skin of his back, feel the rise and fall of her chest and the soft warm puffs of her breaths on his; it was utterly intoxicating, and yet utterly terrifying in the same moment.

Suddenly Winry seemed to realize just how very close they were and drew back a bit. She let go, taking a step back and turning quite red, "Ahh…yeah, don't worry about it, everyone has nightmares sometimes. Try to get some rest, okay, it's a big day tomorrow!" She blushed even more intensely, then strode to the door. She paused, one hand on the frame, the other on the knob and half glanced back at him, "…there was absolutely nothing you could have done…just remember that, okay?" With that, she stepped into the hall and shut the door behind her, leaving him to darkness and silence once more.

Wrath sighed and sat down heavily on his bed, running his fingers through his hair. No matter how intuitive and understanding Winry might be, he could never have told her the full story of that hideous nightmare. One thing he was now certain about; the Black Dog in his dream was the very same he had seen in the alley outside the train station. He realized with a shudder that the eyes peering at him through the window the first time he had dreamed of the ivy covered house must also have belonged to the Black Dog.

What he was far from certain about was his grip on his sanity and what sinister meaning, if any, lay behind the recurring nightmares of the ivy clad house with the clogged chimney haunted by the Black Dog and the sound of faraway music. He felt as though the answer might just lie behind the door under the stairs.

He shook his head, sighing again and flopping back into bed. He was about to reach for the covers again when he leapt from his bed and bounded to the wardrobe. He flung open the door, his automail fist already cocked back and ready to strike. It was completely empty inside save for a little dust and some old wooden hangers. He chuckled a little to himself, shutting the door and turning to flop down face first into his bed.

Somewhere in the night, a dog's howl echoed through the streets.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The brass cogs and spars glinted in the waning firelight, defying his hand. Outside the window, the temperature was rapidly dropping as the light faded from the gray winter sky. Wrath sat huddled over his roll top desk, his automail hand clasped in his hair, forehead resting in his steel palm as he drummed the desktop impatiently with the fingers of his other hand. He reached over and tugged the chain on his banker's lamp, hoping the sulfuric light might somehow dispel his frustrating impasse. It didn't; despite everything he had learned from the Rockbells about engineering, the machine sat obstinately in the middle of his desk, as if some mental block prevented him from completing it.

He growled under his breath, shoving the half completed project back into the recesses of his desk. He slammed the roll top down and locked it, clipping the small iron key back onto the chain of his pocket watch. He shoved the leather-clad wooden roller chair back and lurched out of it, leaving it turning slowly in front of the empty desk. He strode over to the fireplace, grabbed the wrought iron poker and listlessly prodded the waning embers as he stared into their glowing depths. A month had passed since Winry and he had set up shop in Rush Valley, and by all appearances, business had been excellent. The Rockbell name, assisted in its spread by an eager Paninya, had drawn numerous customers to the shop, and all had left happy. Still, something wasn't right, and it gnawed at Wrath like the chill of winter gnawed at the windows of his study, barely held at bay by the resilient warmth of his fire.

He sighed and carelessly dropped the poker back into its rack. It settled against the other tools with a clanking rattle as Wrath cast his gaze across the impressive furnishings of his study. The room was long and somewhat narrow, reaching from the outer wall of the building to the central corridor that divided the second floor, situated between his bedroom and Winry's office. It had been a lounge of some sort originally, and by a stroke of good fortune the very handsome and plush brown leather furniture and other elegant antiques had been included in the purchase of the building. He had originally planned to just tuck his desk into a corner of the cellar, as he had done at the house in Risembool, but Winry had insisted he should have this room as his office. She said it suited him, and besides, if he had to interview potential clients in her absence, she wasn't about to let him do it in the dingy basement!

The walls were paneled with heavy, carved oak wainscoting, with plaster finishing the upper portion. Centered on the outer wall and flanked by two tall windows stood the heavy stone fireplace with its rustic, oaken beamed mantelpiece. Beneath the window to the right of the fire stood Wrath's roll-top desk, brought from Risembool, one of only a handful of pieces of furniture that made the trip. As he faced the door, the wall to his right was lined with a long bookcase that reached almost from one end of the room to the other. One small section nearest the window, about four feet wide, comprised a curio cabinet with double glass doors which contained a small selection of liquors, a seltzer bottle and a set of various glassware and utensils. A small ice-box was built into the lower portion of the cabinet.

Directly in front of the fire sat a large, heavy set sofa of rustic brown leather with wrought iron rivets. To the right of that, just in front and slightly to the side of the curio cabinet, was a matching wing-back chair. Against the back of the couch stood a long, narrow table with two elegantly carved lamps with stained glass shades. A card table, surrounded by several plush and elegant antique chairs, stood in the center of a large, ornately woven rug that spanned most of the hardwood floor from the back of the couch to the door leading into the hallway. Just inside the door sat a large, intricately carved bench seat with built in hat racks and an umbrella stand. Beside that, there was a half-round side table with an oval mirror above it, and then a tall, slender grandfather clock. The walls of the room were decorated with various old-fashioned paintings and old photographs, and several of the tables had little knickknacks of various kinds; an old ship's compass, a stuffed and mounted ferret under a glass dome, a few Xing porcelain vases, a globe, some odd bottles and so on.

Wrath glanced up at the pallid face of the grandfather clock; the hour was creeping closer to eight. Winry had been shut up in her office doing paperwork since just after closing time. It wasn't like her to be so diligent; he wondered briefly if she was alright, but dismissed the vague uneasiness creeping into his mind as mere baseless paranoia. At that thought his mind turned to the disturbing nightmares that had haunted him since Risembool.

He strode to the window and pressed his automail palm against the glass, then leaned his forehead against it, gazing out over the icy rooftops of the city. As he watched the moonlight shimmer against the rooftops and windows of the nightscape, he forced himself to remember the last hideous nightmare, hoping to glean some hidden meaning from its terrors.

The setting for the nightmare was yet again the stone house covered in creeping vines, but this time it began differently. Unlike his previous visions of the house, this time he was immediately inside the house, staring at the hideous Black Dog curled on the rug in front of the fire.

"Miiiiiinneee…." it said to him, opening one eye to pierce him with its appalling, detestable gaze, yet not deigning to lift its gruesome head from the rug. This time, the feeling was different too, as if everything were sharper, clearer. He immediately turned from the Black Dog and ran to the door under the stairs, but when he grasped the handle, he heard the snarl of the evil dog and felt its jaws tugging at his coat, trying to hold him back. He turned and furiously kicked the thing, but to his shock he found that when his foot connected, it disintegrated into a putrid, writhing mass of insects that scattered in every direction and disappeared between the floorboards.

He turned back to the door, then, and flung it open, descending the dark staircase into its hidden depths. He remembered the feeling of the basement; it was musty and damp, with dirt floors and stone walls. He heard the ominous creaking of floorboards above him, as well as an unusually distinct ticking sound, like that of a grandfather clock, as he moved deeper into its shadowy depths. The room was filled with odd objects and curiosities, items whose specific nature he couldn't remember, but which struck him as bizarre and yet familiar at the same time. There was one thing he remembered clearly, though, something which stood out among the cluttered storage room's peculiar contents.

Against one wall, flanked by piles of oddities and crates, sat an old steamer trunk with a strange looking mannequin propped up on it. It had the appearance of a kind of outré marionette, with tarnished brass bones partially overlaid with porcelain skin. Its face was like that of an antique doll, but was a boy rather than a girl. It had no hair. It bore a placid expression on its stark face, and its eyes were closed. In its right hand, it held a violin, and in its left a bow. As Wrath approached he realized the loud ticking sound was coming from the doll.

Suddenly, its eyes snapped open and it stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, not moving or speaking. Its eyes were the most incredible thing about it; in contrast to its otherwise lifeless appearance, the doll's eyes were unnervingly real and alive, and somehow conveyed a soulful expression despite the utter immobility of its face.

Wrath shivered as he remembered the voice of the doll as it finally spoke:

"You've come. I wondered if I would ever see you."

"Who are you?" Wrath asked, taking a step closer.

The clockwork doll whirred and clunked as it sat up straighter, bringing its violin to its neck and stroking the bow across the strings. It played the most majestic and beautiful song Wrath had ever heard, the music seeming to waft through the entire house. As the song drew to a close, Wrath could hear the Black Dog scratching furiously at the basement door. It continued, "Never pet the Black Dog!" it warned, "The smoke will blind the house and choke us until the clog is removed. Do not listen to his voice…remember what you have seen…"

What was it he was supposed to remember? What did this strange new apparition mean? Wrath clenched his metal fist against the window as he struggled to remember through the inevitable haze that obscures all dreams when the waking world returns. He knew he had seen something particularly important in that room, but what was it?

Suddenly his troubled musings were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door of his study. "Come in," he called.

The door creaked open and Winry stood in the opening with a broad smile on her face. Wrath regarded her quizzically, abandoning his macabre train of thought in light of her beaming presence. He smiled back without knowing it, and she stepped in and closed the door.

"Great news! I finally finished with the books, and things are really looking up! If we keep going at this pace, we might be able to expand next year. We're really making it, Wrath!"

Wrath smirked, turning and leaning his back against the window frame, "Of course we are; you're the best automail engineer there is."

Winry's already wide grin broadened even further with Wrath's unreserved praise. She stood in the doorway beaming at him for a moment; she seemed to be about to say something until her gaze wandered to the window behind him.

"Ooh! It's snowing!," she said, rushing to the other window and pressing her hands and nose against the glass, "And the moon is full! It's gorgeous."

Outside, the sky was streaked with dark gray clouds which stood out in silhouette against the brilliance of the starry sky behind them. The full moon flooded Rush Valley with pale, soft, cold light, waxing and waning as the snow clouds wafted across its face. A light snow was falling, caressing the window panes invitingly, enticing those inside to come out and see what the night had to offer. It couldn't have been more beautiful if an artist's brush had created it all, Winry thought.

She pulled back and turned toward him, her palms still pressed against the cold glass, "Let's go for a walk!"

Wrath unfolded his arms, a frown darkening his face. He turned to face her, tugging his pocket watch out and opening the cover, "I don't know…it's getting kind of late…remember what Paninya said about this being a rough neighborhood…"

"Oh, please!" Winry begged, "As long as you're with me, I don't have anything to worry about!" She flashed her broadest, brightest smile at him, her hands clasped in front of her.

He sighed, thrusting his pocket watch back into its pocket, "All right, all right…but we're not going too far and we won't stay out too late."

Winry giggled and grabbed his arm, half dragging him out the office door.

A few minutes later they strolled together, arm in arm, down the by-street that ran in front of the shop. They were both wrapped up tightly in heavy wool overcoats. Winry was muffled with a knitted scarf and wore matching mittens on her hands. Wrath strode along with his bare hands thrust in his coat pockets. His hair rustled in the evening breeze as they crunched along together down the deserted moonlit street. The moon above was exceptionally bright, its glow magnified by the blanket of snow covering the city and bathing everything in an otherworldly light. Wrath glanced from left to right, his gaze darting between darkened alleys and doorways. Winry noticed his uneasiness and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, relax would you?"

"Hmm?" Wrath glanced at her; she was incredibly beautiful bathed in the moonlight. He turned his eyes back to the snowy street ahead, "Sorry, was just daydreaming I guess…"

"You know, Wrath, I couldn't have done all this without you," Winry began, looking up at the moon. "I just…I really appreciate everything you've done for me. I guess I don't tell you often enough…"

Wrath smiled a little, "It's nothing, really…I should be the one thanking you..." He hesitated to speak further, then looked back at the moon, "You hungry? Maybe we could get a bite to eat at Antonio's? I know you like that place…"

She grinned, tugging his arm as she made a sudden turn into an alleyway, "Sure! Come this way; it's a shortcut."

Winry half dragged him down the alleyway, passing under a carved archway. A little ways in, the alley opened into a small courtyard with some boxes and crates piled around the perimeter. The lights were out, casting the area in inky shadows despite the bright moonlight. She stopped in the middle of the courtyard, turning to face him.

"So…what is it you should be thanking me for?" she asked playfully, letting her mitten-clad hand slide down his arm, coming to rest near his wrist. Wrath swallowed hard as she looked up at him with those deep azure eyes of hers; could he really tell her how much she actually meant to him? Did he deserve to tell her something like that?

"_Awww, now ain't this just too damn sweet…_"

Wrath and Winry snapped their heads around, startled by the sudden interruption. Wrath's eyes narrowed as a shadowy form stepped out from behind a pile of crates.

"I told you before, boy, we _own_ this town, and you ain't got our permission to be here…" Jimmy, the leader of the street gang Wrath had encountered on his first day in Rush Valley stepped into a shaft of moonlight, revealing his ragged flat cap, acrid cigarette, and sneering, simian features. Both his hands were thrust into the pockets of the seedy, ragged leather jacket he wore, but the right side bulged abnormally.

"Winry…RUN!" Wrath yelled, stepping in front of her to shield her.

Suddenly, Winry gave a strangled cry as another of Jimmy's thugs grabbed her from behind, clamping his big, gnarled hand over her mouth. She struggled, but his strength was too great. He grinned wickedly at her, pressing his whiskey-stinking lips to her ear, "Tisk, tisk, girly! You ain't goin' nowhere till you pay your dues…hehehe…"

Another goon emerged from the shadows holding a shotgun, blocking the alley they had entered through. Wrath glanced at him with a growl, then turned back to find himself staring down the barrel of an automatic pistol clutched in Jimmy's hand. The lowlife advanced on him, his sadistic grin broadening, "I told you I'd be seeing you, didn't I boy? I told him, didn't I Frankie?"

The thug holding Winry grinned back, "Yeah, you told him, Jimmy! Now she gonna pay for him bein' so uppity on our turf!"

Wrath glared murderously at Jimmy over the slide of his pistol, "Your beef is with me, you bastard! Leave her out of this…just let her go and you can do whatever you want with me."

Jimmy burst out in shrill, manic laughter, his cigarette falling from his teeth, his gun shaking faintly in his grip, "You don't get this shit, do you?! Neither of you is gettin' out of this alley alive! See you in Hell, pal!"

The gun spat fire five times in rapid succession, the alley ringing with the thunderous roar of the shots. Five rounds slammed through Wrath's chest, embedding in his lungs. He coughed blood and staggered on his feet; blood oozed from his lips, but he refused to fall. He clenched his fists and snarled furiously at his foe, taking a halting step forward. He tried to speak, but his words were reduced to a mere choking gurgle.

Winry struggled, her screams muffled by Frankie's leathery palm.

The sadistic thug's eyes went wide with rage and bewilderment. "_DIE!_" he screamed, aiming for Wrath's face and firing again.

The bullet slammed into Wrath's forehead, snapping his head back and spattering the alley wall behind him with blood. He toppled backward and lay sprawled in the snow, a pool of crimson spreading from the back of his head, starkly outlined by the whiteness surrounding him. His wide eyes stared lifelessly up at the night sky.

Frankie laughed hideously, shoving Winry toward Jimmy. She staggered forward, turning in horror toward Wrath's lifeless form, "WRATH!" she screamed, tears streaming from her eyes.

Jimmy grabbed her shoulder with a pitiless chuckle, but she spun on her heel and slammed her fist into his face with all her strength. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she screamed as her knuckles plunged into his face with a crack.

He staggered back, blood bursting from his nose and staining her hand, but he quickly recovered and pistol whipped her across the face. She grunted in pain, staggering back, and he followed his attack by grabbing her throat and slamming her against the nearby alley wall. He pressed the gun against her chin, bringing his face close to hers. His breath was foul, stinking of liquor and cigarettes.

His beady, sinister eyes twinkled with cruel delight as he grinned at her, "I'm gonna enjoy this, bitch…me, Frankie and Lou are gonna take turns having our fun with you, and then I'm gonna' shoot you in the face like your little boyfriend there…"

_Kill…_

Winry's eyes went wide; she tried to speak, but his grip on her throat was too tight, choking her. She took a deep breath as he ran his foul tongue down her neck, twisting her face toward Wrath as he did so.

_KILL THEM…KILL THEM ALL!_

He slipped the gun into his waistband at the small of his back, then began to reach around to his fly. She shut her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs as she felt herself start to get light headed.

Suddenly, Wrath's previously lifeless form arched up and he sprang to his feet. His head hung low, his wild black hair obscuring his face. His breath misted out into the chill night air as he raised his face; the bullet hole in his head had closed up completely, leaving only a trickle of blood on his forehead where the mortal wound had been. When he spoke, his voice was a guttural, almost inhuman growl, "Big…_big mistake_…now it's my turn!"

Jimmy shot a bewildered glance at Wrath, "What the fu…I KILLED YOU! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!"

Lou, who had been trembling as he watched Wrath with terror in his eyes, fumbled with his shotgun and tried to level it at him. In an almost imperceptible flash of motion, Wrath had leapt at him, thrust the barrel of his shotgun aside and slammed his metal palm into Lou's chin, sending him reeling. Grasping the gun by the barrel, Wrath swung it like a baseball bat and smashed the butt against Lou's face. The wood shattered against his skull with a sickening crack, splattering the alley wall with blood, dislodged teeth, and wood splinters. The thug spun around and landed in a crumpled, bloody heap in the snow, totally unconscious. Wrath tossed the broken shotgun into a pile of refuse, half turning to Frankie. The look in Wrath's dark, catlike eye as it bored into him chilled him to the bone; it was pure, unadulterated, murderous hatred. Frankie stepped back and began fumbling in his pocket.

"Y..you bastard!" he sneered, "I'm'a cut you up good!"

He snapped out a long switchblade and dashed toward Wrath. Wrath flashed forward again, deflecting the knife effortlessly with his left hand, grabbing Frankie's wrist and brutally snapping his arm with a thrust of his automail palm. The thug barely had time to drop the knife before the back of Wrath's automail fist slammed across his face, splitting his lip wide open, the crack echoing off the stone walls. He staggered back, his head spinning, as Wrath's next punch slammed into his gut, doubling him over. Wrath grabbed his hair, driving his steel knee into Lou's face three times, crushing his nose in an eruption of blood. With lightning speed, Wrath released his staggered, blood soaked enemy and delivered a bone-crushing spin kick to his head. The hapless thug whirled through the air like a ragdoll, crashing through a pile of snow covered crates and laying in a bloodied, motionless heap among the debris.

Jimmy, who had released his grip on Winry, looked on with terror, rage and bewilderment in his eyes, reaching back for the pistol tucked into his pants, "D..damnit! What the hell are you!? HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS!?"

He thrust his arm forward, leveling his gun at Wrath, but it was too late; the homunculus had already streaked across the courtyard and ensnared Jimmy's hand. The pistol fired uselessly into a nearby wall, slide locking as the final casing ejected with a trail of fine smoke.

"You missed…" Wrath growled, his lips spreading into a wide, cruel, shark like grin as he twisted Jimmy's wrist painfully in a vise-like grip. The thug gasped in pain and fell to one knee. Wrath slammed his boot into Jimmy's gut, doubling him over before turning and shoulder throwing him into another pile of dingy crates and garbage cans. The thug sprawled with a crash among the refuse. Slowly, he staggered to his feet, stumbling forward and throwing a clumsy haymaker at Wrath. The homunculus merely sidestepped and ensnared Jimmy's fist with his right hand, twisting his shoulder painfully around before slamming his other palm against the thug's elbow, gruesomely snapping his arm and leaving it hanging uselessly. Jimmy screamed in agony, tears running down his dingy, fear contorted face.

Wrath stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar and viciously head butting his nose. The thug stumbled back and fell in a heap in the snow, his shattered nose streaming blood down his face. Wrath coldly stood over him, driving his boot into his gut, and kneeling down to wrap his left hand around Jimmy's throat. He raised his steel fist and slammed it down once, twice, three times into his enemy's battered face. Wrath raised his blood dripping automail fist again as Jimmy's eyes rolled back and he slipped into unconsciousness. The gruesome image of Wrath's fist driving right through Jimmy's face and into the pavement beneath, drenching him in blood, flashed across the homunculus's mind as his fist cocked back fully, ready to strike the final blow.

Suddenly, Winry's delicate hands were wrapped tightly around Wrath's upraised arm as she stood behind him, holding on with all her strength, "WRATH STOP, PLEASE!"

Wrath blinked in surprise, his automail fist slackening slightly; he felt strange, as if he had just awakened suddenly from a dream, though he had been awake during the fight. He clenched his teeth, looking down into the battered face of his enemy as he hesitated. The bastard had tried to hurt Winry…tried to…he should die…he deserved to die…_kill him now!_

"_I didn't give you this arm so you could commit murder with it!_" Winry pleaded, tears streaming down her face. She held onto his arm with all her strength, knowing that it wouldn't be enough to hold him back if Wrath chose to strike.

"I'm okay, Wrath, please! Please just let him go!"

Wrath unclenched his fist, turning his face toward her. His dark eyes met her gaze and he felt the red haze of rage fading from his mind. He hesitated a moment longer, then let go of Jimmy's collar. The thug slumped back into the snow and Wrath stood up. Winry was still holding his blood soaked automail hand, the gore smeared across her own delicate fingers.

"I…I'm sorry…I just couldn't let them hurt you…I'll never let anyone hurt you, _ever_!" Wrath said softly, turning his face away.

Winry grabbed his arm, and together they ran through the alley they had entered, leaving their would-be assailants beaten and barely alive in the snow covered alley. Winry didn't stop or say a word until they had reached the front door of the shop. She stopped, panting heavily and leaning against the door.

At length, Wrath reached out to her, "Winry…are…are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

She suddenly turned to him and threw herself into his arms, an anguished, wailing cry escaping her throat as she buried her face against his chest. She wept with deep, wracking sobs as tears streaked down her face. Wrath wrapped her in his arms, holding her trembling form protectively as they stood alone in the doorway. He gently caressed her head, closing his eyes and resting his chin against it. He was overwhelmed with relief and joy that Winry was unharmed, yet something troubled him; when he had awakened from his temporary 'death', he had been consumed with an insane, otherworldly fury and flooded with overwhelming blood lust. Even in his most vicious battles with Edward Elric, or even during their harrowing escape from the underground city, he had never felt so out of control, so savage. He thought of the horrifying nightmares, the appalling images of him murdering Winry; were they coming true? Was he slowly losing his mind and slipping into a kind of barbaric insanity where he would be ruled only by the desire to kill and maim? He shuddered as he remembered what had become of Gluttony when his Oroboros had been erased; did a similar fate await him?

After a few minutes, Winry's sobbing began to slow, and at length she drew back and rubbed her reddened eyes.

"I'm sorry…I'm okay now…thank you for saving me back there."

Wrath nodded, his hands gently resting on her shoulders as he watched her, his eyes searching to be sure she was really unharmed. After a moment, he lowered his arms and averted his gaze, "I'm…sorry you had to see that…I…I don't know what came over me."

He slipped his hands into his coat pockets and puffed a defeated sigh, watching the snowflakes drifting silently through the night stillness. Suddenly, he felt Winry's hand on his shoulder as she stood on tip toe and softly kissed his cheek. He blinked in surprise and turned just in time to see her disappear into the shop, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

He stared at the door, his mouth agape as he stood there alone in the snow. Finally, he sighed, pushed his way through the door, and took one last look up and down the street before closing it and fastening the bolts.

~.~.~

The next night, Jimmy and his gang lay sprawled in their squalid hideout, bandaged, bruised and covered in blood. The leader slammed down his empty whiskey bottle and reached out his remaining workable hand, lifting the telephone handset, "Operator? Connect me to the Military Headquarters in Central, Intelligence Division… yeah, I got some info they're gonna want…"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The first rays of the morning sun shot between the gables and chimney stacks of the buildings across the street, striking Wrath's shoulders and projecting his silhouette on the back wall of the shop. He had sat up all night with his chair leaning against the window sill outside Winry's door, keeping a silent, sleepless vigil over her. It had been two days since their near-deadly encounter in the alley, and no further trouble had arisen from the incident. Winry had insisted that she was fine, but Wrath needed to make sure of that himself, so for two nights he had gone without sleep, ready to face anyone who would dare to try and set foot inside their shop uninvited. As a homunculus, he had no biological need for sleep, and yet strangely enough he found that five solid years of sleeping at night like a normal human had attuned his body to feel as though he did. He stretched and yawned rather loudly, cracking his neck from side to side just as Winry opened her door.

"Ugh…I hate it when you do that…so gross…" she said sleepily, stifling a yawn herself as she looked him over. "But it's sweet of you to be watching over me like this...you really don't need to."

He blinked and turned his head to look at her, leaning forward and letting the front chair legs come to rest on the floor. She was wearing her typical work outfit of lavender cover alls, sandals, and a red dew rag, only today she was fully dressed in the coveralls instead of tying off the sleeves around her waist as she habitually did, most likely due to the frigid temperatures. Her ever-present black tube top peeked alluringly from between the 'v' created by the front zipper; somehow, the effect made her even more enticing than usual and Wrath was worried he might actually be blushing as she reached back and snugged up the knot holding her dew rag in place.

"Listen, I have a lot of tune-ups to catch up on, and you've been running yourself ragged with these all nighters; why don't you take the morning off, go get some coffee, maybe some breakfast, and clear your head."

Wrath frowned at her.

"I'm fine, okay! Honest! Just relax for once, go get some bacon and eggs or something!"

Wrath sighed, rising to his feet and slipping his hands into his coat pockets. For a moment he stared down the hallway and across the expanse of the shop floor at his shadow framed in a rectangle of golden light at the other end of the building. At length he cast a sidelong glance at Winry and nodded, "Alright, I'll take your word for it. You want me to bring you back anything?"

She smiled at him, the glow of the morning sun shimmering in her golden hair and caressing her flawless, champagne skin. At times like these her beauty could almost steal his breath, and he wondered how Edward managed to be so totally blind to both her beauty and her affections for so long.

"You're always thinking of me, aren't you? Alright, bring me a cappuccino from that coffee shop on the main street when you come back, No rush." She strolled past him and headed down the hall, casting a backward wave over her shoulder, "See ya!"

The smile faded from his lips as she disappeared around the corner and he heard her quiet footfalls moving down the stairs. What he hadn't told her was that part of the reason for his insomnia was dread of the horrible nightmares that continually plagued him. At least he hadn't seen the Black Dog for some time, he thought, heading down the corridor.

Winry had already headed to the cellar to get parts by the time he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, so he carried on out the front door, flipping the sign in the window to 'open' on his way out. The morning air was crisp and fresh, the whole city shimmering under its thin blanket of crunchy, frozen snow. Snowfalls like the one of two nights prior were rare in the arid region around Rush Valley, so the snow pack had condensed and frozen in the frigid temperatures. Wrath paused just in front of the shop door, pulling it shut and casting his gaze up and down the deserted street. He sighed, absent mindedly scratching at the back of his neck, his breath wafting out in misty billows. At length, he slipped on a pair of fur lined black leather gloves, shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and strolled off down the street, wandering in no particular direction.

A few minutes walk found him entering through the wrought iron gates of Edge Park, a small green space situated on the edge of a large ravine, with impressive views of the rocky terrain surrounding Rush Valley. He strolled nonchalantly down the central path, his black jackboots crunching in the snow. There was an icy breeze blowing in from the ravine, rustling through his hair. He shivered slightly and pulled up his scarf to muffle himself against the cold.

There were only two other visitors to the park at that early hour: a scruffy, bedraggled looking hobo who huddled on a nearby bench, and a young lady in a heavy, plush fur coat and a very large winter hat walking her dog.

The hobo, his back bent with hard years of rough living, was alternately taking swigs from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag and mumbling incoherently. He wore a dingy newsboy cap, and a large, filthy, fur trimmed overcoat; His face was mostly wrapped up in a plaid wool scarf, revealing only his massively bristled, fiery-red moustache and bright red nose. He didn't even seem to notice as Wrath sat down on the bench next to his. The young woman was even more muffled than the shabby hobo, her face almost completely obscured by her hat and scarf. She was quite tall and slimly built, with a large bustle skirt spreading from beneath her heavy fur coat. She was walking a very handsome looking, tuxedo-coated Shiba Inu who trotted along faithfully at her side.

Wrath leaned forward, running his gloved fingers through his wild sable hair. He looked up at the magnificent sunrise lofting above the mesas on the horizon and let out a soft sigh. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he withdrew the steel flask that had once belonged to Panako Rockbell. He gazed at the only remaining memento of his automail engineering mentor, and smiled faintly to himself; _well,_ he thought, _if ever I needed her guidance, now's the time._ He unscrewed the steel cap and knocked back a swig of the harsh, dry, spicy rye whiskey. The fiery liquid instantly warmed his entire body, seeming to penetrate to his core and push back the winter chill.

"You know, drinking in public is illegal…"

Wrath furrowed his brow in annoyance as the unfamiliar voice intruded on his solitude. Somehow, a man had entered the park and made his way to the path just behind Wrath's bench without his noticing.

"You know, you should probably mind your own damn business…" Wrath retorted, turning to see who his unwanted morning companion was.

What Wrath saw was the last thing he expected; standing in the middle of the path that passed by his bench stood a man of moderate height with jet black hair and black eyes. He wore a black greatcoat with a furred collar, its front left open to reveal the distinctive blue uniform of the Amestrian military. The left side of his face was mostly covered by a large black eye patch, but his remaining eye bore a look of resolution and subtle cunning Wrath had rarely seen. The officer stood with both hands nonchalantly thrust into his greatcoat's pockets and a faint, wry smile curling the corners of his lips as the morning breeze ruffled through the tail of his coat.

Wrath glanced around furtively before fixing his gaze on the unknown officer again, "Don't see many army types around here these days…what's the occasion?" Wrath asked, trying to play ignorant.

The officer's smile broadened almost imperceptibly before he spoke, "I suppose I have you at a disadvantage. My name is Major General Roy Mustang, but you can call me The Flame Alchemist if you prefer. The occasion is a report passed to me by Central Intelligence that strongly leads me to suspect there's a homunculus in Rush Valley."

Wrath's eyes widened and he half rose from his seat, almost dropping the hip flask in the process. He heard a rustling sound behind him, but he was too late to react; he heard the distinctive sound of the safety catch on a pistol being disengaged. He immediately raised his hands, then slowly turned his head and torso to see who the General's companion was.

He couldn't help but crack a wry smile as his eyes met the steel blue gaze of a blonde woman who moments before had convincingly played the part of the drunken vagrant. The paper bag with the bottle lay discarded in the snow along with the bristly costume moustache and newsboy cap, but she still wore the disheveled overcoat and baggy pants of the hobo. Her delicately feminine yet unwavering hands gripped the pistol which was at that moment pointed directly at Wrath's head.

"Listen," Wrath stalled, trying to think of a way to escape, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you got the wrong guy!"

Mustang smiled back, "No, I don't think so. Your reaction when I mentioned the word homunculus was enough to erase any doubt. I wasn't aware that any of you survived…"

"And you're gonna make sure that I don't survive today, right? Please…just don't shoot me…I don't wana die, PLEASE…!"

Suddenly, Wrath snapped his right arm back, grasping the muzzle of the blonde officer's gun with his automail hand. She instinctively fired in reaction, the bullet immediately ricocheting off his steel palm and showering her with sparks, irretrievably jamming the pistol. In the same instant, Wrath snapped the flask in his left hand at the Flame Alchemist, who whipped his gloved hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers. The flask exploded in a burst of fire, smoke and shards of metal, forcing him to shield himself with his greatcoat. Wrath didn't waste his chance; he leapt over the bench and dashed through the snow.

He heard the sound of snarling and barking behind him; chancing a glance back he saw the woman in the bustle dress and fur coat releasing her dog, which rocketed toward Wrath at incredible speed. To his shock, she whipped off her broad hat and wool scarf to reveal the face of a young man with a shock of strawberry blonde hair and chiseled features; the blue collar of a military uniform just showed beneath the neckline of his dress as he cursed and whipped out a shotgun from under his coat.

The dog was on him in three more steps, but Wrath whirled just in time to catch the dog's jaws on his steel forearm. The dog yelped in surprise at finding its teeth jarringly clenched on solid steel. Wrath flung the dog off, sending it reeling into a nearby tree trunk and momentarily stunning it. He turned to flee, snow spraying from his heels.

A wall of searing flamed erupted between him and the open gate of the park, blocking all hope of escape. He turned to see the flames surrounding him part and the Flame Alchemist step between them, his white gloved hand held out, fingers poised to snap.

"Automail limbs, eh? This gets more interesting by the minute…but you didn't let me finish. I just want to talk with you, that's all. I must insist that you come along quietly; I really prefer that nobody gets hurt this morning."

His manner was cordial, but his tone was enough to assure Wrath that things would get very ugly very fast if he didn't comply. The point was driven home as the blue eyed blonde with the steely gaze leveled another pistol at his head and the grumpy male officer in the dress immediately grabbed him from behind and slapped his wrists in handcuffs. The black and white Shiba Inu snarled at Wrath, stalking forward, but a sharp command from the woman stopped him in his tracks. He trotted to her side and sat down, looking up at her with utter devotion.

"Fine, if you wanna talk so bad, then let's talk. Nice weather we've been having," Wrath growled sarcastically.

Mustang shook his head, "No, not here. That gunshot will no doubt attract unwanted attention. I think we'll head back to your automail shop and chat over some nice hot coffee."

Major General Mustang fell in stride beside Wrath as the group walked through the wrought iron gates of the park, heading down the street toward the shop. The two other officers and the dog followed behind, guns leveled at Wrath's back. The young Homunculus shot a sidelong glance at the smug face of his captor and growled under his breath, "You owe me a flask of rye, asshole…"

Winry was sitting atop one of the tall stools at a workbench when the door flung wide and Wrath, Mustang and the others marched in. Winry at first made no notice, but when she realized Wrath wasn't alone, she stood up from her bench and turned to face the group that now stood just inside the workshop. She stared in mute amazement for a few moments, her wrench dangling from her fingers.

"Colonel Mustang…" she breathed, "What are all of you doing here?"

"Actually," Havoc, fortunately now without his dress, interjected with his characteristic roguish smile, "It's Major General Mustang, Major Hawkeye, and Captain Havoc now."

She shot a cold glance at Mustang, "Climbing the ranks as always, I see. What are you doing here?"

Mustang stepped forward, bowing to Winry, "Investigating a tip we received; a rather disturbing story about someone coming back to life after being shot. I suspected a homunculus might have resurfaced and I was right. May we sit down?"

All colour drained from Winry's face for a moment; she nodded, motioning to the kitchenette table in the corner of the shop as she moved to it and sat down.

Mustang nodded to Hawkeye, "Remove his handcuffs, Major."

Riza Hawkeye shot back an incredulous glance, "Are you sure you want me to do that, sir? I already have to fill out one Equipment Loss Report as it is…"

Mustang cracked a wry smile, "No need to worry; I just wanted to have a chat with our hosts, so it's best we keep things informal at this point. Besides, I have a feeling our young homunculus here wouldn't do anything that might put Miss Rockbell at risk.

Mustang cast a brief but all too knowing glance at Wrath, who narrowed his eyes and glared back hatefully. Hawkeye released his handcuffs and he sat down at the table beside Winry.

Mustang sat opposite them with Hawkeye on his left. Havoc pulled a cigarette from his pack and slipped it between his lips, "I'll hang out up front to make sure we aren't disturbed, sir."

"Good; just stay out of sight. Best we keep this as low key as possible."

"Well," he began, "when I heard what your young friend here did to those three…individuals…in the alley, and the mention that he miraculously recovered from a bullet to the head, it wasn't all that hard to figure out that there was at least one homunculus still alive. Let's just say I have some personally strong feelings about them, so I decided to investigate myself. And what do you know? Here I am sitting at a table with a living homunculus."

"The bastards had it coming!" Wrath interjected, glaring at Mustang, "They tried to… to hurt Winry, and they shot me in the face before I ever laid a hand on them."

"Still, don't you think you got a little out of control? One of them has a busted skull, another a busted nose, broken arm and eight broken ribs, not to mention a severe concussion, and the last one has a snapped arm and barely has a face left. Even if they deserved it, did you really think you could work over three men like that without Central Command finding out, putting two and two together and figuring out that you're a homunculus?"

"He has a name, Mustang!" Winry shot back, "His name is Wrath, and he saved me from being raped and murdered in that alley, so the least you can do is have the common decency to use it!"

Mustang retained his cool demeanor, but remained silent for a moment as he absorbed her words. At length, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking from one to the other, "Look, whatever the two of you are up to here, the fact remains that I can't just let Wrath run wild in Rush Valley. In case you forgot, our _dearly departed_ Fuhrer was a homunculus who committed genocide and nearly destroyed this country…the homunculi nearly killed Edward and Alphonse multiple times; they're the reason they're gone, and they killed Brigadier General Hughes in cold blood."

Mustang's voice lowered slightly at the mention of his lost friend and comrade; Winry could tell that wound had never healed, despite the passage of several years. Mustang rose to his feet, gloved hands resting on the edge of the table as he stared across at Winry and Wrath.

"I'm not saying I'm going to execute him or dissect him in some lab; as long as Wrath remains cooperative, I'll keep him in protective custody, but he's coming with me and that's final!"

Wrath rose to his feet, anger and alarm vying for primacy in his features, "Yeah, I've heard about the State's 'protective custody'…fat lot of good that did Doctor Marcoh, huh?"

Mustang shot a deadly glare at Wrath, "He was killed by _your kind_, homunculus! Or did you conveniently forget?" he snarled back.

"Damn it, Mustang!" Winry said suddenly, slamming her palm onto the table and leaning over it, staring straight into the general's remaining eye, "I have _never_ asked for even one thing from you, but you _owe me_! Wrath is staying _right_ where he is, and that's the end of the discussion, understand?"

Mustang's eye widened and a look of sickly horror washed over his features. He blinked and coughed uncomfortably, obviously trying to regain his composure after the momentary lapse. Finally he gazed back at Winry, a mournful look in his dark eye, "Alright then, if that's how you feel…how can I refuse? I'll keep Wrath's existence to myself, for now, and do my best to prevent anyone else looking into the matter." He turned his gaze to Wrath, looking at him resolutely, "But know this: I can only indulge my personal feelings so far in this kind of thing…if you go too far, you may force my hand."

The wry, knowing smile returned to Mustang's face as he stood up and slid his hands into his pockets, "Well, at least some good has come of your little stunt the other night; the military has been wanting to clean up Rush Valley for quite some time now. We finally have an excuse to send in troops to assist the police in cleaning up this town and making it safe for law abiding folks again. Officially, I'll label your handiwork the beginnings of a gang war which Central Command intends to nip in the bud."

With that, he turned and waved over his shoulder, heading for the door with Hawkeye in tow. Wrath sat dumbfounded for a moment, staring at the door in mute amazement. At length he turned to say something to Winry, but found she was already gone. He watched her climb the stairs, rubbing her eyes as she went. He stood from his chair but hesitated to go after her. He heard her footfalls hurry down the hallway upstairs and the sound of her slamming door made up his mind about not following her.

In a flash of motion, he dashed to the stairs and ran up into his office, closing the door behind him. He moved rapidly to the window, throwing it open and stepping out onto the ledge. In a moment he was on top of the building; from his vantage point, he could see Mustang and his crew walking away down the street. With uncanny speed and agility, he dashed across the rooftops, shadowing them as they made their way through the maze of streets that made up the central district of Rush Valley. Finally, he watched them head inside an apartment building in the east district, not far from Edge Park where he had encountered them earlier in the morning. He crouched on the roof of the building across the street, considering what to do next. Suddenly, an idea hit him.

He pulled his notebook from his coat pocket and jotted down the address of the building, then shoved the book back into his pocket and retreated to the other side of the roof, careful not to allow himself to be seen from the building where Mustang and his troops were holed up. He slid down the fire escape and into the snow blanketed alley. The passage of a few minutes found him in a phone booth outside a café in the next block over. He quickly dialed a number and glanced around, holding the receiver up to his ear.

"Hello, Rush Valley Police Department, how may I direct your call?"

"I need to speak to Constable LeCoulte, is she in the office today?" Wrath asked.

"I think she may be at her desk; may I ask who's calling?"

"I'm a friend of hers…Curtis is the name."

"Alright Mr. Curtis, please hold."

A few moments passed as the receptionist transferred the call. After a few rings, it was answered, "Hello, Constable LeCoulte here, what can I do for you?"

"Paninya, it's Wrath…"

"Oh! Wrath!" she said, apparently rather surprised to hear from him, "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Listen, there's something I wanted to talk with you about. Is there any way you could meet me at Marlowe's Coffee House in the next little while?"

"Hmm…" there was a pause of a few moments, "Okay, sure, I can make my way down there in about thirty minutes. Is that okay?"

"That'll be just fine. I'll have a cup waiting for you when you arrive. Big scoop of sugar, no cream, right?"

Paninya chuckled quietly on the other end, "Hmmm…you don't miss much, do you, Wrath? Yeah, sounds good. See you there."

"Thanks, see you in half an hour."

He hung up the phone and headed into the shop. He made his way to a table at the back and situated himself so that he could see the entrance, but couldn't easily be seen himself unless he wanted to be. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and closing his eyes as he considered his next move.

Within half an hour, the door opened and Paninya entered, dressed in her impeccable navy blue uniform and forage cap. She doffed her hat as she entered, waving and flashing a good natured smile at the proprietor behind the counter, "Morning, Chris! Meeting a friend here; young guy with long black hair. You seen him?"

The man behind the counter smiled and nodded, pointing to the booth where Wrath sat waiting, "Your timing's perfect; just poured two cups of coffee over there. Lots of sugar, just how you like it, Paninya!"

She smiled and tucked her cap under her arm. She caught Wrath's eye as she made her way to his booth, giving him a wave. She strolled up and tossed her cap onto the table, pulling up a chair, "Ahh, smells great this morning. Chris always brews a fine cuppa joe. So, what's up?"

Wrath unfolded his arms, leaning forward slightly, "Thanks for coming…I feel a bit awkward asking you to go to all this trouble, but it's important; you're pretty much the only person besides Winry I know in this town."

"Don't sweat it," she said, taking a sip, "What do you need?"

"Well, I need you to do me favour, and it's going to sound a bit weird. It's nothing illegal, don't worry…"

Paninya furrowed her brows at Wrath, her cup poised just below her lips, "What is it, exactly?"

"Well, there's these people that just came into town recently, military officers…I need to know where they're staying. I know which building, I just need to know which apartment."

"Why?" Paninya set her cup down without taking a sip; her investigative instincts were being tweaked.

Wrath sighed, taking a sip of his coffee before meeting Paninya's gaze, "I'm worried they might be trouble for Winry…you know she was involved in some pretty crazy stuff in the past, right? Because of the Elric brothers…"

Paninya nodded, "Yeah, I remember them…little blonde guy and his giant armoured brother, right? Wasn't that guy Ed a State Alchemist?"

"Yeah. Listen, all I want is to find out what they're up to, and to do that, I need to know which apartment they're in, but I can't let them know I'm watching them. There's three of them and a dog. Two men and a woman. I can give you pretty good descriptions of all of them."

Paninya sat silently for a moment, musing over what Wrath had said. At length she took a sip of her coffee and flashed a smile, "Alright, mysterious stranger. Any friend of Winry's is a friend of mine, and if these army guys are going to cause trouble for her, I'd rather she knows about it ahead of time. Give me a couple hours to look into it, and I'll meet you back here at three, okay?"

Wrath nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"So, how long have you and Winry been an item?"

Wrath nearly spewed his coffee all over the table, "Wh..what?"

Paninya chuckled to herself, flashing a mischievous smile, "You know, how long have you two been going out?"

"W..Winry isn't my girlfriend…we're just business partners, that's all…"

She raised one eyebrow, looking at Wrath over the top of her cup as she downed another sip. Wrath furrowed his brow, setting his cup down.

"Seriously…what gave you that idea?"

"Call it a hunch. Well, I guess even a cop's intuition can't be right all the time…"

She finished her coffee, then stood up and pulled her forage cap back on, tugging the brim down over her eyes, "Thanks for the coffee, Wrath. I'll be back around three to let you know what I found out."

She flashed him a warm smile and waved back over her shoulder as she strolled out of the shop. Wrath watched her go, wondering if the warmth in his face meant he had been blushing furiously at her question. He shook his head and tried to put it out of his mind as he finished his coffee.

At the appointed hour, Paninya appeared again, striding down the street, arms swinging smartly as she crunched through the frozen snow. She paused in front of the shop where Wrath was leaning against the wall beside the phone booth he had used earlier.

"313c," she said with a smile, "Third floor, front side of the building. There's a suite with a sitting room, two bedrooms, a den and kitchen."

Wrath blinked in surprise, "H...how did you find all that out?

She smirked, slipping her hands into her pockets for a moment to warm them up, "Every building has some old busybody who complains about everything. You said they had a dog, so I went in and told the Super that an elderly resident had complained about the dog barking, asked if he knew anything about it. I figured a military dog would be too disciplined to bark, really, but that wouldn't stop those old bitty types complaining anyways. He immediately knew which group I was talking about, told me they were in 313c, but he hadn't heard any barking. I told him I wasn't surprised, since we get false complaints all the time. I wanted to find out more for you about the layout of the apartment, so I just turned on the charm and made small talk with the guy, told him I was thinking about moving, and that I wanted to know what the apartments were like. He described the layout in detail."

Wrath smirked, "You'll be a detective soon with skills like that…I couldn't have hoped for any better."

Paninya chuckled, "So, what're you gonna do now?"

Wrath shook his head, "Nothing really. Just keep an eye on them and see if I can figure out what they're up to."

In truth, he had considerably more planned, but he wasn't about to tell her that. She smiled, "Alright, just don't get yourself in any trouble, okay? I'd hate to have to explain to Winry why you were in jail!"

She patted his shoulder as she headed off on her beat. He half turned and watched her go, then headed off in the opposite direction to put his plans into motion.

The moon was high overhead in the clear, frigid winter night by the time Wrath took up his position opposite the building where Mustang's group was staying. He knew he would have a brief window of opportunity in which to act; when he saw Hawkeye exit the front door, dressed in civilian clothes with her dog trotting obediently at her heels, he knew the time had come. He ran back to the far side of the roof, then dashed at full speed and made a flying leap across the gap between his building and the target. He sailed across and cleared it with little trouble. He crept to the edge and peered over; Mustang's apartment was three stories down, but there was a sturdy drainpipe that ran beside it down to the ground. He crept to the pipe and slid down it slowly with all the agility of a spider monkey.

Upon arriving at the window ledge, he cautiously peered inside; it was one of the bedrooms, and the lights were completely out. The only illumination was from the brilliant moonlight streaming in the windows.

Cautiously, he pulled a long, thin jimmy from his coat and slid it between the two frames of the window. He flipped the latch over, unlocking it, then lifted the outer frame quietly and slipped inside. He shut the window with extreme care, making as little noise as possible, then turned to survey the room.

It was a large bedroom with a brass bed tucked in one corner. At the foot of the bed was a large dressing screen covering one corner of the room, and against the wall near the bed sat a side table with a crystal decanter full of amber liquid marked "Bourbon" and two glasses. Mustang's blue tunic and white ignition cloth gloves lay across the bed. Wrath concealed himself behind the screen, shrinking into the darkest pool of shadow available, and waited.

It wasn't long before the bedroom door opened, casting a stream of light across the floor. After a brief pause, the door closed again and Wrath heard the sound of the latch being turned. He could hear the sound of Mustang's jackboots striding across the hardwood floor toward him. Wrath held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. After another short pause, there were a few more steps and then a clinking sound; Mustang was pouring Bourbon from the decanter. Strangely enough it sounded like he was pouring some into both glasses. Wrath's eyes narrowed, his pulse pounding in his ears.

"I figured you'd come sooner or later…guess it's sooner. You can come out now."

Wrath's eyes went wide; how the hell did Mustang know he was there? He took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the screen. Mustang was standing by the side table dressed in his shirt, trousers and boots, one of the glasses held in each hand. Wrath stared at him incredulously for a moment.

"You heard me come in?"

Mustang shook his head, "No."

"Saw me watching the place?"

The general smirked, holding out one of the glasses toward Wrath, "No, actually I have to hand it to you; you did a fine job sneaking in here. Very clever waiting until Major Hawkeye took Black Hayate for a walk…it was the window latch that gave you away; you left it unlocked after you closed the window. I locked it this morning."

Wrath stood in silence, his stoic face betraying nothing of what lay beneath. At length he shook his head, waving away the offered glass. The general smiled knowingly and took a sip from his own glass, setting the second one down on the sideboard. He seemed to savour the bourbon for a moment, swirling the amber liquid in his glass and watching it spin before turning his single eye back to Wrath.

"You apparently didn't come here to fight, so what's on your mind?"

"What did Winry mean when she said you _owed_ her?"

"Hmm…straight to the point…I'm starting to like you, homunculus."

"Cut the crap, Mustang!" Wrath hissed, clenching his fists, "You pulled an awfully quick reversal back there, and it wasn't hard to see that she rattled you pretty bad. From what I've seen you don't rattle easily, so what exactly did she mean by that?"

Mustang stared back at Wrath, setting his own glass down and turning to face him, "I don't think you're going to like the answer to that question."

"Tell me, now!"

Mustang sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze never wavering, "During the Ishbalan rebellion, I was sent in along with the other state Alchemists under the command of the late Brigadier General Basque Grand to quell the uprising. I saw and did a lot of horrible things back then…things I can never forget, no matter how many years have passed. There were a pair of doctors working there, humanitarians who simply wanted to save lives. They didn't discriminate; Ishbalan or Amestrian, they simply treated everyone as human beings and did their best to save as many lives as they could. Eventually, Basque Grand decided he'd had enough and ordered them executed as enemy collaborators…it was a total crock, but I was given the order, and like a good little soldier I marched into their clinic and shot them dead. They were lying in a pool of blood, clutching a photograph of their daughter when the Brigadier General walked in to congratulate me…"

Wrath's eyes widened, the vague, sickly feeling of realization beginning to claw its way into the back of his mind.

"I can't express to you the horror and disgust I felt with myself then…I tried to drown it with booze, and when that failed, I put my gun to my head and tried to will myself to end it. I was too much of a coward. That horrible day, my horrible crime, was what made me resolve to become Fuhrer and change this country once and for all. It was the turning point that put me on a crash course with the Elric brothers and everything that happened after. There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not haunted by their faces…by the blood…"

Wrath's fists and teeth were clenched; it couldn't be them…it couldn't be…

"I've searched for a way to make up for that crime many times…even travelled to their home town once thinking maybe I could somehow make amends, but there's nothing that can ever wash their blood from my hands. All I can do is watch out for their daughter, try to do my best to see that she's kept safe. Their names were Rockbell, and Winry is their daughter."

Wrath was across the room in a heartbeat, his automail hand wrapped around Mustang's throat as he slammed him against the wall, "You! _You killed her parents?_"

Mustang grunted in pain, but quickly regained his composure, staring with unnerving calm into Wrath's eyes, "Yes…so you see why I had no right to refuse her anything…why I couldn't stop you like I know I should have…now what are you going to do? Will you avenge her?"

Wrath snarled, staring hard into Mustang's face, trying to discern what was really going on behind that immutable mask, "I should rip your heart out right now…how _dare _you show your face in this town? Do you know what all this means to her? Do you realize she has nothing left but her automail shop?"

"…And you," Mustang interjected, staring back at Wrath with the same sort of searching gaze, "Ever since I read that report, there's something that's bothered me…you could easily have killed all three of those lowlifes. You beat them senseless, sure, but something stopped you from crossing that line, from slaughtering them outright…it was her, wasn't it?"

"You shut up!" Wrath growled, tightening his grip around Mustang's neck, "You don't know a damn thing about me!"

Mustang coughed, but remained as resolute as ever as he struggled for the breath to speak, "D..don't I? You think I don't know what the desire for vengeance feels like? Why do you think I abandoned everything I had worked for and killed your old pal Bradley? If you decide to kill me, I can't say a word to stop you. I'm guilty by my own admission. But just think for a moment about Winry before you do it; if you kill me, the military will never stop hunting you until you're destroyed. Can she really afford to lose you? Will you treat your life so cavalierly, without considering what it means to her?"

Wrath's grip around his neck slackened, then dropped away. The homunculus took a step back, staring hard into Mustang's resolute face, "How…how did it feel when you killed Pride? When you finally put an end to the monster that nearly destroyed your country and your life?"

Suddenly there was a loud banging on the bedroom door, followed by Hawkeye's voice, "Sir, are you okay? We heard a loud crash; what's going on?"

Mustang glanced at the door, then back at Wrath, "…It felt empty."

The homunculus glanced at the door, then back at Mustang. He hesitated a moment, then turned toward the window just as Hawkeye and Havoc kicked in the door. She drew her gun, but Wrath had already slammed open the window and jumped out, sailing down and landing gracefully on the sidewalk three stories below.

Hawkeye dashed to the window, taking aim at Wrath's retreating back, but Mustang's hand on her shoulder stopped her from firing, "It's fine, Major…let him go."

She whirled around, holstering her gun and regarding Mustang quizzically, "Sir? What in the world was he doing here?"

Mustang smiled, reaching over to close the window against the bitter cold outside, "Looking for answers, apparently. He found a couple that I don't think he liked."

She glanced at him, her voice a whisper, "Are you sure that girl isn't clouding your judgment in this matter, sir? It seems like you're being more reckless than usual since we arrived here."

Mustang smiled back, "Nothing to worry about, Major. I found a few answers myself, so the night hasn't been a total loss. Care for a drink?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The snow was falling again when he finally made his way back to the heavy oak door of the shop. He stepped inside, pausing to turn the latch in the darkness of the foyer. The metallic clack echoed through the deathly silent building; the inner door into the shop floor was still ajar. A faint candle glow was emanating from inside. He hesitated for a moment longer before striding across the room and pushing his way in.

Winry sat at the kitchen table, clad in her pajamas, a single candle casting dancing shadows around the darkened room. Her feet were bare, her hair hanging free as she sat with a mournful expression that nearly broke his heart when he saw it. As the door opened, she glanced at him and immediately rose to her feet. She took a few halting steps toward him, seemingly unsure whether to hug him or chew him out. She frowned at him, her hands hanging limply at her sides.

Wrath stepped inside and softly shut the door. He slid his hands into his pockets and looked at her, his own eyes betraying much the same mournful gaze as hers had moments before, "Sorry I'm so late…"

She took another step toward him, crossing her arms over her stomach as she regarded him with a mixture of concern and anger, "Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you…I thought…I thought Mustang went back on his word…I thought I might never see you again…"

"I tracked him down…confronted him in his apartment…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…it wasn't my place to get involved, but I couldn't stop myself…"

A look of alarm flashed across her delicate features, "Tell me you didn't…"

He shook his head, watching her face intently, needing to see every nuance as he confessed his rash action, "He told me what you meant…why he owes you. I could have killed him for it…I had my hand around his neck…I could have snapped it in a heartbeat, but something stopped me…I'm sorry…"

Her frown deepened, "Sorry…?"

Wrath looked deeply pained, the sorrow in his normally cold, stoic eyes plain as he continued, "He deserves to die for what he did to you…what he stole from you…but I hesitated…"

He scowled, holding up his steel fist, "If you say the word…if you want it…I'll avenge you, avenge your family and kill the bastard…I won't hesitate again."

She stepped forward, drew back her hand, and slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed off the cold stone walls of the workshop in the night time stillness. The candle flickered as Wrath reeled back, his eyes wide with shock.

"You IDIOT!" she yelled, tears beginning to shimmer in her deep blue eyes, "How could you say something like that to me? _How could you_?"

Wrath was speechless; he stared at her as she began to tremble faintly, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Do you think killing Roy Mustang would bring my parents back? Do you think it would give me back all those lost years? Take away all the pain and emptiness? Revenge won't bring them back! It won't change a damn thing!"

"I…"

"And what would I gain if you killed him? His blood on my hands! How could I ever sleep peacefully again knowing you killed him because of me? And worst of all I would lose _**you**_! I don't have anyone left but you, you stupid idiot! Don't you ever say something like that again! I told you before your life _matters to me!_"

She was trembling, sobbing, and covering her face with her hands as she was overcome with years of grief, pain and loss. She felt exposed, helpless, standing there before him. She rarely ever talked about the death of her parents; it was a wound that was still raw, still bled, after all these years. She wondered if it was partly because she came to know, respect, and even admire the man who had killed them in cold blood. Perhaps the wound stubbornly refused to heal completely because she had been denied any illusions about it; she couldn't wrap it up in a neat little package, thinking they had been killed by a complete monster, or merely as collateral damage in a savage war. They had been brutally murdered in cold blood by a man who in many ways had become a hero, by a man whose courage, integrity, and commitment to justice she well knew. She sometimes thought it would have been much easier to just hate him, but she couldn't, and so she was tortured by questions with no answers, denied a simple resolution.

Wrath stepped forward, hesitating a moment before sliding his arms around her. She at first pressed against him, but suddenly drew back, pulling free of his embrace, "I'm sorry…I just can't…!" She turned and ran from him, retreating to the solitude of her room.

Wrath watched her go without a word. He sighed and slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing his forehead in frustration, "Way to go Wrath…well played…"

He blew out the candle and trudged upstairs to his bed, stripping down and throwing himself onto it in resignation and despair. Sleep held no solace, however, as he was haunted by horrifying nightmares.

He dreamt of Winry, naked and alone in a sea of darkness. She pressed her body against him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply. He closed his eyes and returned her kiss, his heart leaping for joy, until it sank to his feet and the sickly feeling of utter horror gripped his heart; the salty, metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth as he kissed her.

He drew back to see her staring in terror, blood oozing from her lips as a massive blade protruded from between her breasts, its tip drenched in her blood. He tried to scream her name, but his voice was gone. He watched as her unseen attacker twisted the knife and threw her aside in a pool of blood; as her body fell he found himself looking into the face of her killer. It was his own face, twisted with the most malicious, diabolical grin he could have imagined.

"You know you want to…you're going to, you'll see…you can't deny who you are…kill her…kill her now!"

Wrath raged, swinging his fist at his doppelganger, but he struck empty air. He turned around, trying to see where his attacker had gone, and yet another horrific vision met his gaze. He saw himself standing in the streets of Rush Valley, the city utterly awash in carnage, strewn with the dead and dying. He stood there among the dead with his hands wrapped around Paninya's neck, squeezing the life from her. He tried to scream at himself to stop, but yet again his voice was gone. He watched as his other self crushed the life from her, snapping her neck and throwing her body aside like a discarded piece of trash. The malicious, savage faced homunculus locked eyes with him, his evil gaze burning with hate and bloodlust.

"This is who you are."

Wrath shut his eyes, gritting his teeth, "NO! NO! NO!"

"Oh yes…" his own voice taunted him, "You can't change what you are…you are a monster…now act like one."

Suddenly, he heard a faint voice calling his name; it was a gentle voice, and it pleaded with him to run to it. He turned from the horror and ran as hard as he could, plunging into the inky void that surrounded him. He ran until his lungs burned and his heard pounded, and still he kept running. Finally he stopped; he heard the familiar sound of a ticking clock, and when he opened his eyes he saw himself standing before a tall gilded mirror.

He stepped forward and found that the face staring back at him was that of the clockwork marionette he had seen before. The soulful eyes stared at him from the immutable porcelain face. The doll said nothing, but it pleaded to him with those vivid eyes. Its right hand rested over the left side of its chest, and as he looked on, it drew back its hand, and he saw it…

Wrath awoke with a start, sitting up in his bed and glancing around his darkened room, panting and covered in a cold sweat. The nightmare images began to fade, but he was overwhelmed with the sense he had been given a crucial message. He felt the intense desire to go to his desk, so without stopping to consider it further, he threw off the covers and dashed into the hall.

He opened his office door and strode across the room to his desk. He unlocked it and threw up the roll top. Why? What had he seen in that dream? What was it? He shut his eyes and focused hard…it was something he had seen before…he saw it once before, and he knew then he needed to remember it; he had tried and failed, but he had been given a second chance…what did he see?

Suddenly his eyes snapped open and a shiver ran up and down his spine as the answer exploded in his consciousness like a bomb; the heart.

He had seen the marionette's clockwork heart, and in that whirring, spinning mass of cogs, springs and gears, was the final answer to making his machine work. Frantically, he grabbed papers from various drawers and cubby holes in his desk, laying out the blueprints for the machine on his desk blotter; it all made sense now! He could finally finish it!

Pulling up the chair, he set to work furiously on his long-stalled project, utterly absorbed in the work, his fingers flying around the desk as each cog, spring, screw and bolt fell into place.

The night was long spent, the morning sun creeping in the window beside his desk before he finished. He stepped back, blinking and staring at the completed machine that now sat in the center of the green blotter. It was almost as if he had been in a trance as he frantically assembled and tuned it, and now his mind was reeling with elation and bewilderment as the mechanism that had confounded him for so long sat perfectly complete before him. He hesitated for a moment, then lurched forward and grabbed the machine and a polishing cloth that lay nearby, turning and rushing from the office and down the stairs.

He set the machine in the center of the first workbench and covered it with the cloth. He stepped back, running his hands through his long, disheveled raven hair as a broad smile crossed his lips. A thought suddenly occurred to him and he turned and ran up the stairs again to the bathroom.

He looked himself over in the mirror; he was a complete mess. His hair was wildly unkempt, his shirt completely unbuttoned, his pants wrinkled and spotted with oil stains. He grabbed a brush, quickly taming his wild black hair, then buttoned up his shirt and arranged his suspenders. He grabbed his toothbrush and frantically polished his sharp teeth. At last he looked at himself and took a deep breath. He turned and stepped out the door and almost bowled over Winry who was wandering sleepily down the hall at that very moment.

She blinked and rubbed her reddened eyes sleepily, peering at him with bleary eyes, "Wrath…?"

He grinned at her, his body almost quivering with irrepressible energy, "Come with me, I have a surprise for you!"

She furrowed her brow at him, scratching her head in confusion, "Huh?"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her along the hall, unable to contain himself, "Come on!"

She allowed herself to be led down the stairs and into the workshop, the first rays of the morning sun beginning to penetrate the gloom. She looked around for a moment and was about to say something when her gaze fell on the small shrouded object in the center of one of the workbenches. She stared at it for a moment in amazement, completely at a loss for what it might be.

Wrath's grin broadened, "Go ahead…it's for you."

She glanced at him in bewildered curiosity, then looked back at the mysterious object sitting on her workbench. She took a step forward and reached out, grasping the cloth. She whipped it off and stared in speechless amazement at what she saw.

There, shimmering in the first faint rays of the morning sun, was a beautifully crafted mechanical nightingale. Its delicate feathers, beak and legs were formed of brass polished to a mirror sheen, and its small eyes were formed by two sparkling emeralds. It was standing on a round base a few inches high, also formed of the same shining brass. It was wrought in the most incredible detail, from its slender, delicate beak, its intricate feathers, its long tail and scaly legs; it was breathtakingly beautiful. Winry seemed about to say something, but Wrath withdrew a small iron key from his pocket and held it out to her.

"Go ahead, wind it up…the key hole is on the base at the back."

Speechless, Winry took the key from Wrath's hand and reached out to the metallic nightingale. Her fingers faintly trembling with reverence, excitement and wonder, she inserted the key and wound the spring several times, the tension building until finally the key stopped. She released it and stepped back, her azure gaze transfixed on the little treasure before her.

As she watched, a faint whirring sound became audible from within the automaton. After a moment, the bird's wings fluttered and its head flitted from one side to the other in perfect, lifelike imitation of the real thing; even its jeweled eyes blinked. Winry's breath caught in her throat and she brought her fingers to her lips as she watched the little metallic bird come to life, and then, it began to sing…

Rather than the lively, staccato chirping of a true songbird, the automaton began to emanate an incredible melody, the haunting sound not unlike that of a small violin. The music seemed to come from somewhere deep inside the little bird, deeper than should have been possible. Winry stood utterly transfixed as the beautiful, mournful melody enveloped her being. At last the song died away, and the nightingale fell still, and silence took hold once more at the final whirr and click of the magnificent clockwork mechanism.

She reached out and caressed the little nightingale, running her fingers lovingly over its polished feathers, tracing her fingertip down its forehead and over its small pointed beak. She was utterly in awe, and her heart heaved in her chest as she felt her eyes begin to well up.

She turned to Wrath and gazed at him with a look of joy and wonder in her eyes, the sorrowful, anguished look of the previous night utterly expunged. His heart leapt in his chest and he could barely contain his elation as he saw that look in her azure eyes. It was a long moment before she managed to summon words.

"Oh…oh Wrath…it's so beautiful…it's just…it's incredible!"

Wrath beamed at her, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glanced at the little automaton, then back at her, "I've been wanting to give it to you for a long time now, but I couldn't finish it until last night…finally something clicked and I figured out how to make it work."

"Where did you learn that song? It's absolutely breathtaking…"

He swallowed a lump in his throat, his heart heaving with emotion, though his face showed only the overwhelming joy he felt at seeing hers, "It's a lullaby…Izumi sang it to me before…" he hesitated a moment, "She sang it to me after she created me…somehow I remembered it in a dream. It's the only song I know that's worthy of you."

Winry gasped, her eyes widening in awe. It was the most profoundly beautiful, moving gesture anyone had ever made toward her. She felt suddenly humbled by such a magnificent gift; she felt unworthy of it, and yet she couldn't help but be moved to her very core by it. She gazed at him, and in that moment she began to see him in a different light, in a way she never expected she would, "Oh Wrath…I don't know what to say…this is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me…"

He felt his passionate love for her welling up inside him, roaring to be set free. His mind struggled with it, throwing a thousand objections in its path; he wasn't worthy, it could never work, she deserved better than him, and yet his love for her was relentless. He could feel it overcoming every other impulse as he fought for the words he longed to say to her. He opened his mouth to say what his heart had long yearned to express…

_KILL HER!_

His voice was cut off as a horrendous pain shot through his head; it felt like he had been stabbed in the brain with an ice pick as the voice split through his thoughts like a bullet. He grabbed his head, stumbling back and wincing in agony.

_KILL HER NOW! SHE'LL BETRAY YOU JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!_

Winry took a step toward him; Wrath was gripping his head tightly with both hands, his breathing was heavy and laboured as he clenched his fingers against his skull.

"DAMN IT, SHUT UP! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" he roared furiously, his eyes staring blankly forward. Winry hesitated; what was happening to him? Who was he talking to? Wrath looked up at her, fear and confusion on his face, mixed with something else. His features twitched and shifted, it was as if different emotions were fighting for control of his face; at one moment it was hatred, the next sorrow, the next pain.

_Kill her! She'll never love you, she loves Edward! You know that! The one who took everything from you, who stole your mother, who stole your LIFE! Take what you want from her, use her for your desire and then discard the shell!_

The voice splitting his thoughts sounded like his own, yet the words were not his. It was as if someone else was speaking into his mind using his own voice.

"I know you…I know you from somewhere…WHO ARE YOU?" Wrath stammered, gritting his teeth as his body and mind were wracked with pain.

_You're just like me, don't you get it? We were born to create agony and pain, to relish it, to feast on human suffering! You always were such a sniveling brat, unable to do anything without your precious mommy…well if you won't kill her, then I'll consume you and do it myself!_

Suddenly, Wrath was struck with realization; the voice had betrayed too much of itself in its last tirade. It had been disguising itself to sound like his voice inside his head, but just then it had slipped and the true sound of that cruel voice was all too familiar. A look of horror washed over Wrath's features as he looked up at Winry, "Oh shit…" he whispered, "_Envy_…!"

He thrust his hand out to Winry, warning her away as darkness began to cloud his vision, "WINRY, RUN, IT'S ENVY! HE'S IN MY..!"

The words were cut off as Wrath's body suddenly became rigid, and then collapsed limply to the ground with a thud as if he were struck dead.

"WRATH!" Winry screamed, rushing to his side; his eyes danced wildly, his body faintly twitching now and then, as if he were deeply asleep and dreaming, but with his eyes wide open.

"Wrath, don't give in…" she whispered, feeling helpless, her hand wrapping gently around his. She didn't understand how it was possible, but it seemed that somehow Envy had returned and Wrath was in a desperate battle for possession of his own sanity.

Fog drifted among the black trees as Wrath stumbled through the woods that had suddenly surrounded him. Branches clawed at his face as he stumbled through the almost complete darkness. He could hear faint laughter coming from up ahead, and he pushed onward toward what appeared to be a clearing in the trees.

_That's right, little boy, come to me…_

Envy's disembodied voice seemed to come from all around him, echoing through the pitch black woods before disappearing with a gust of wind, "Where are you, you bastard! What is this place?"

He burst into the clearing in the woods, forcing his way through the branches as thorns cut his flesh and stung his face. He could feel the blood beginning to run down his natural arm and leg as he blinked in the dim light. Slowly his vision cleared and he saw to his horror that he stood before the stone circle where Izumi had tried to resurrect his human corpse so long ago, where his existence as a homunculus began. There, standing amid the stone circle, was the lithe, androgynous form of Envy. The homunculus' visage was twisted into a cruel, maniacal grin that spread seemingly from ear to ear. He chuckled hatefully at Wrath, assuming his typical effeminate _contraposto_, "Took you long enough to figure it out…you always were such a fool."

"How? I saw you transmuted! How could you get back? HOW COULD YOU BE IN MY HEAD?"

Envy threw back his head, laughing hysterically, his arms thrown wide as he relished Wrath's confusion and fear, "Is that what happened? Thank you for informing me! It really was quite brilliant, even for me, I must say. Would you like me to explain? Alright, since you seem so interested…"

The diabolical shape shifter walked slowly toward him, then much to Wrath's shock, right through him before turning around, "You see, little one, I suspected that something unfortunate might happen to me, either because that bastard Ed got the better of me, or because I might be betrayed by the old hag, so I took certain...precautions…hehehe…"

Wrath growled, clenching his fists, his back still turned to Envy, "What the hell do you mean?"

"Well, haven't you ever considered that if I could change shape, perhaps I could divide as well? Envy is like a disease, a cancer, if you will: it infects a person and poisons everything in their heart, until it finally consumes them…to put it plainly, I detached a tiny piece of myself, a little shard of my essence, and I embedded it in your body as you lay there helpless on the floor. I let you think I got close to you by accident, and then when you grabbed me I made sure to kick you nice and hard so you wouldn't feel the teeny little pinprick as my tiny parasitic clone burrowed into your flesh…I knew that pipsqueak and his brother, being the weak little sentimentalists they are, would never be able to kill you when you were so helpless…"

Wrath's eyes went wide, a look of sheer horror on his face.

Envy's devilish grin broadened, "The form you see before you, of course, is merely a projection; my body is still a larva embedded in the back of your neck. And this place…" he gestured carelessly to the nightmare forest around them, "Is the deepest, darkest part of you, the very core of your mind, the place you hide all the things you're afraid to accept about yourself…the place you keep the things that make you what you are."

"All this time…the nightmares, the visions of the Black Dog, the voices in my head…it was you all along!"

"Black Dog? Hmmm now that is interesting…that I know nothing about, but the rest was all me of course…ever since that night in the underground city, my little larva body has been attached to your spine, hidden, feeding off your body and mind, poisoning your thoughts little by little…I know everything about you now…"

Wrath snarled, "You don't know shit about me, you bastard! You never did!"

"Oh? But that's where you're wrong, Wrath…" Envy's voice took on a surprisingly gentle, soothing tone, dropping in volume as he slowly approached the young homunculus from behind, "I wasn't lying when I told you that you and I really are the same. I didn't understand that before, but living inside your mind has given me a glimpse of the darkest parts of you…the parts even you yourself won't face…"

He reached out and clamped his hands around Wrath's shoulders suddenly, thrusting his lips to Wrath's ear so closely that he could feel Envy's breath on his neck.

"You hate Izumi because she abandoned you to the gate, left you in cold and darkness and fear, all alone with its horrors, when all you wanted was to live and be with her. She despised you because of your deformity, because you were born imperfect, and you hate yourself even more than her for loving her in spite of it. When she died, your fury was outweighed only by your grief and pain. Your heart is a seething cauldron of hate and rage, desire and grief, my dear Child of Wrath, and it is truly exquisite…"

Wrath roared and wrenched himself from Envy's grip, spinning around and swinging a vicious punch with his steel arm. Envy dodged and jumped back, grinning malevolently, "Your heart is a perfect mirror of my own, dear boy, don't you see? I despise Hoenheim of Light for what he did to me, for rejecting me when I should have been his beloved eldest! I was his firstborn, as you were hers, and they threw us away like so much worthless trash! Look at what we are, we are so much more than their weak, pitiful human lives could ever hope to be, and they DARED to spurn us? We are the result of their disgusting arrogance, their blind hubristic stupidity! I want to bring them all the SUFFERING they so RICHLY DESERVE, and so do you, Wrath, don't you?"

"NO!"

"_Yes you do_ …you feel it deep inside you…you want to crush them and feel their blood ooze through your fingers, hear them beg you for mercy, not even realizing you have no soul. You want to squeeze the life from them…admit it, when you had your cold steel hand around Winry's neck, so close to snuffing out her life, her last breath literally in your hands, you loved that power, didn't you? And in almost the same breath you wanted to take her, didn't you? Sate all the lust for her that was churning inside that dirty little brain of yours…"

Wrath fell to his knees, shutting his eyes tightly as tears stained his cheeks. Was Envy right? Was this his true self? Did this stone circle define him forever, indelibly marking him and forging him as the Sin of Wrath? Should he give in to the darkness and lose himself in the rage and fury he couldn't deny was lurking, waiting for him to give in to its desire? Was lust all he felt for Winry? The desire to possess her like a plaything to be used whenever he wished? Was he really nothing more than a soulless doll acting out the sins of his creator? His mind raced back across his whole existence, playing across his vision like a film reel, his emotions churning within him, all the way back through the terror of the gate, to the rain and blood soaked night when his grieving mother tried to do the forbidden and play God with his remains…

_My son…_

The words echoed through his mind, and Wrath's trembling ceased.

_You are my son…and I love you._

It was Izumi's voice calling to him, quieting his tortured thoughts. He smiled a little as he felt warmth and light surrounding him.

Envy snarled, "Damn you, you meddling bitch! GET OUT!" he rushed forward, but slammed into an impenetrable wall of light and was blasted back into a tree. He slumped onto the ground as the light became blinding and he was forced to shield his face.

_Who you are is not defined by how you came into this world, my son…who you are is defined by the choices you make and the life you decide to lead. Become who you are meant to be, and know that I will always love you._

Wrath stood up as the light subsided, wiping the tears from his face. He clenched his fists and stared resolutely into Envy's face, "You have no right to be in this place. This is MY mind! I will not let you control me anymore. I am NOTHING like you! And don't you _ever_ talk about Winry like that again, you filthy pig. I love her, and that is something you will never understand no matter how long you exist or how many times you make copies of yourself. _You are disgusting_…_now_ _GET OUT OF MY MIND_!"

"Little bastard…" Envy snarled, "I'll beat you into submission if I have to!" He blasted toward Wrath, delivering a crushing punch to the face that sent the young Homunculus flying. He slammed into a tree trunk with a grunt of pain and barely had time to draw a breath before he felt Envy's rage fuelled fists pummelling his stomach and face, "DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE!" Envy screamed in fury as blood spattered across his fists, staining the dust at Wrath's feet.

"NO!"

Suddenly Envy's fist stopped dead, as if he had punched a boulder; Wrath's automail hand was wrapped around his fist, and he snarled up at Envy through the strands of his wild sable hair. Wrath grinned, squeezing Envy's fist, the bones snapping gruesomely as the green beast looked on in horror, "HOW?"

Wrath delivered a savage uppercut, sending Envy soaring before he crashed down onto the stone circle in a tangled heap. Wrath was on him in an instant, his automail fist raised high. Envy barely had time to dodge aside before Wrath's steel fist shattered the stone that had been just under his head.

He rolled over and sprang to his feet, rubbing his jaw as blood oozed from the corners of his mouth, "H..how?" he choked, bewilderment and rage twisting his features.

Wrath smiled, "My mind: my rules. Now GET OUT!"

Wrath flashed forward at Envy; the bewildered parasite struck out with a quick kick but hit only air. Suddenly, Wrath's steel foot slammed down on Envy's head with a vicious drop kick, driving his face into the cold wet stones beneath his feet; his body bent double, blood erupting from his mouth and nose. Wrath grabbed his enemy by the hair and wrenched him up, slamming his steel fist into Envy's blood spattered face and sending him flying. Envy skipped across the dirt before slamming into a tree.

He staggered to his feet, screaming out in agony and blind rage, "BASSTAAAAAAAARD! I'LL KILL YOU!" The blood was flowing freely now, staining his black clothes crimson. He looked down at his hands, clenching his fists and looking up at Wrath. He launched himself blindly forward at incredible speed, his movements almost too fast to see. He struck out with a flurry of kicks and punches, but every strike was skillfully blocked and parried. Wrath didn't even seem to be moving his blocks were so fast. Finally, Wrath ensnared Envy's arm, twisting his wrist painfully and snapping it. Envy gasped in pain, rage twisting his visage into a mask of pure loathing, "H…how..is this POSSIBLE?"

Wrath leaned forward, snarling into Envy's hateful face, "You are a worm, and I will never allow you to hurt those I love EVER again. Now GO TO HELL!" He slammed his knee savagely into Envy's stomach over and over, crushing the wind from the homunculus' lungs before releasing him and delivering and bone crushing spin kick to the head that sent him spiraling through the air and crashing down onto the stones in a twisted heap of sprawling limbs. In an instant, the world around him tore apart and Wrath was enveloped in all consuming whiteness…

Winry jumped back as Wrath arched his body, gasping suddenly for air like a drowning man breaking the surface of the sea. He struggled to his feet as he felt the Envy parasite reaching into his mind again. Winry staggered back, looking on helplessly as Wrath continued to battle the parasite's malignant influence.

_YOU SON OF A BITCH! DO NOT DO THIS! You know I'm right! Give in to your hate, feel the pleasure their suffering can bring you! Trust me, I will never abandon you, we're the same, you and I, kindred spirits, don't you see? LISTEN TO ME!_

Envy's echoing voice cracked with emotion; it had taken on a desperate, screaming, wailing tone, as if the process of being slowly torn from amalgamation with Wrath's mind were causing him excruciating pain.

"NO, SHUT UP, I'M NOT LIKE THAT ANYMORE!"

_WHY?, because that little bitch batted her eyelashes at you? She'll abandon you just like Izumi, just like ALL OF THEM! She'll go back to her precious Edward and you'll lose her! BE WITH ME, let me rule you, let me consume you and I will give you what you crave! YOU ARE MINE!_

Wrath gritted his teeth, clenching his automail fist, "I SAID SHUT YOUR LYING MOUTH!"

He clawed his fingertips into the back of his neck, splitting the flesh there and thrusting his automail hand beneath it. He snapped his steel fingers shut around the wriggling parasite hidden there, ripping it out and throwing it across the room as he collapsed from the mental and physical anguish of tearing Envy's malign essence away from its attachment to his being. He shuddered on the cold floor, exhausted from the strain of the battle as he watched the little black monster that was Envy's parasitic larva scurry into the darkened corner and through a crack in the wall.

Winry rushed to his side, kneeling beside him and gently cradling his head in her lap. His dark eyes turned toward her as he rolled onto his back with the last of his strength and gazed into those azure pools. She gently brushed a lock of hair from his face, "You're okay…he's gone now…you did it!" she said softly, her lips curling slightly into a gentle smile.

He smiled back at her: the most peaceful, happy smile she had ever seen. He strained to reach up to touch her face, his automail fingers trembling, "I…I luhnnn….." His hand dropped limply to the floor beside him.

_I love you _was the phrase he struggled to say, the only three words that could express to her what he felt in that moment, but darkness surrounded his vision again and his lips failed to form the words as he drifted away to deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A haunting melody penetrated the haze of Wrath's half-waking mind. He began to feel the warm caress of the sun streaming over his face, and gradually he recognized the song of his clockwork nightingale wafting through his sleep addled thoughts, gently waking him, as if all that came before were merely a dream. He slowly opened his eyes to find himself in Winry's bed, the covers drawn up over his chest. Winry was sitting nearby, admiring the beautiful bird with a wistful look on her face as she listened to its mournful melody. When it whirred to a stop, she noticed he had awakened, and a broad smile took over her delicate, sun bathed features.

"Hey," she said softly, reaching out her hand to take hold of his, "You're finally awake!"

Almost instinctively, he reached back to run his fingers down the middle of his neck; he found that Winry had applied a bandage over the wound he created when he ripped Envy out. He glanced back at her. She gently squeezed his hand.

"Had to patch you up, though I know you heal fast anyways…"

"Where's Envy?"

Winry shook her head, "Who knows? He scurried off through a crack in the wall like the little cockroach he is, and I haven't seen a sign of him since."

"How long have I been out?"

"Six hours…"

Wrath lurched upright, throwing back the covers, "Geeze…six hours?! I need to find Envy…I can't just…"

Winry replied with a smirk as she shoved him back into the bed and pulled the covers up, "Relax, you're not going off half cocked after Envy and getting yourself in more trouble. We need think this thing through…"

Wrath frowned, "What's to think through? There's a homicidal homunculus with the power to assume anyone's identity at will running loose in Rush Valley, and it's my fault."

"It's not your fault!" Winry chided, shaking her head, "How could you possibly have known that all this time that bastard was attached to your spine…ugh…it gives me chills just thinking about it…must have been horrible." She shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

He fell silent, turning to gaze out the window, as the images of the horrifying nightmares came flooding back. He shut his eyes, clenching the sheet in his automail fist, "Winry, I'm sorry…"

"What for?"

"I should have trusted you more…I should have let you in instead of hiding everything from you. I realize now that Envy had been torturing my mind since before we left Risembool…he created horrible nightmares, flooded my mind with terrible images…that night in the alley, he spoke to me inside my mind, using my voice, and fed me twisted thoughts, trying to make me kill them…"

Her eyes widened as she remembered something, "The dog…the dog you saw at the train station…do you think it was Envy behind it?"

Wrath turned to look into her eyes, "He said he knew nothing about it, but I feel like somehow it had something to do with him, like a warning, or an omen…I can't be sure…"

"It's okay, Wrath…"

"It's not!"

She regarded him quizzically, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"He…he tried to goad me into killing _you_…" he said softly, his dark eyes awash in sorrow.

She smiled peacefully back at him for a moment before she leaned over and wrapped him in her arms, nestling her forehead against his. His eyes widened in shock.

"You idiot," she chided softly, "You could never hurt me…you should have trusted _yourself_ more."

He blinked in surprise as such an unabashedly affectionate gesture. Suddenly, he felt a cold wet nose nuzzle up against his cheek. He glanced over to see Den wagging her tail happily and panting up at him. He grinned and stroked the old dog's head, "Thanks for the vote of confidence…"

Winry drew back and smiled at Den, "She's been avoiding you since we left Risembool, probably because of Envy …I should have picked up on it, but I've been too wrapped up in getting the business started…never underestimate the wisdom of an old dog I guess."

Den woofed in agreement.

A smile slowly crept its way across Wrath's face. He sat up, leaning forward on his knees as he ruffled the fur on Den's head. He looked back to Winry, "Thanks…"

She nodded with a warm smile, then huffed a little sigh and sat back in her chair as the smile faded somewhat, "You're right about one thing, though…we can't just let Envy run free and do nothing…we should alert the police."

"No way…" Wrath said, shaking his head, wrapping his arms around his knees as he drew them up to his chest, "Even if they believed us, they wouldn't have the first clue what they're dealing with…it would be a bloodbath…the fewer people we involve in this the better. Maybe…maybe Envy will only focus on us and won't involve anyone else…"

"We've got to tell someone! We can't possibly be everywhere at once, and it's too risky for you to take him on completely alone."

A look of determination suddenly seized Wrath's features. He threw off the covers and jumped from the bed. He was already at her bedroom door before she had time to utter a word. He turned back to her, "Get your boots and coat…we need to go."

With that, he vanished into the corridor, leaving Winry blinking in confusion behind him. She shrugged at Den and stood up, making for the door. Den whined and tried to follow, but a cautionary finger from Winry stopped her, "No, girl! This is too dangerous for you. You need to stay here and guard the shop while we're gone, okay?"

Den woofed and wagged her tail in response.

Winry grabbed her overcoat from the hook on the back of her door as she stepped into the corridor. She had taken three paces down the hall before she heard the sound of the freight elevator chunking and whirring into action. She knew, of course, it could only mean one thing.

"Aw crap…"

Within minutes they were speeding through the icy, snow encrusted streets of the city on Wrath's army scout bike, the v-twin engine roaring in the wintry afternoon air. Winry clung tightly to Wrath, her arms cinched around his waist.

"Where are we going?!" she asked, yelling above the noise of the wind and the thundering engine.

"To see Mustang," Wrath yelled back over his shoulder, leaning into a turn and careening around a bend in the road, "He killed Pride…at least he knows what he's up against, and he has backup with him."

Winry nodded, "Yeah, that makes sense…he'll know what to do."

"I think we should tell Paninya…" Wrath added, not glancing back.

Winry furrowed her brow in surprise, "I thought you didn't want to involve the police…"

"I didn't say _the police_, I said Paninya…she's the only other person I know in this town besides you…it could make her a target for Envy. Do you think we can trust her to keep all of this to herself?"

Winry nodded after a moment's consideration, "Yeah…I think so. I think she'll understand why it has to be kept quiet."

A few more minutes travel found them parked in front of the apartment building where Mustang and his troops were staying. Wrath set the kickstand and held the bike steady for Winry. She dismounted, followed by Wrath, who grabbed her hand and dashed up the steps, hitting the buzzer for 313c.

"Hello?" answered Mustang's voice after a few moments of silence.

"Mustang, it's Wrath, I need to talk to you…_now_."

There was a momentary pause before the speaker crackled again, "What, couldn't you just slide down the drain pipe and come in the window like last time?" came the sarcastic reply.

"Can it, Mustang; this is serious."

"Okay, okay, relax. I'll buzz you in."

Soon they were all seated in the parlor of the suite. Mustang, Havoc and Hawkeye sat on one side of the room, while Winry and Wrath sat together on the settee opposite. Black Hayate, crouching at Hawkeye's side, growled low in his throat as his dark eyes bored into Wrath, but a gentle pat on the head from his mistress instantly silenced him.

Mustang leaned back in his plush leather wing-back chair, pressing his fingertips together as he regarded the odd pair with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Wrath stared hard across at the Flame general, "Something has happened that changes everything."

Mustang narrowed his eye at Wrath, "What happened?"

"It's going to sound strange, but...Envy is back…"

"Envy? Another homunculus?"

Wrath nodded, clenching his fists as they rested atop his thighs, "Yes…the _first_ one, and maybe the most powerful. You may recall that aside from being extremely strong and agile, he has the power to assume the identity of any person at will."

Mustang's eye narrowed as he leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers intertwine as he regarded Wrath searchingly, "How?"

Wrath hesitated; he glanced at Winry, who gazed back at him. She nodded almost imperceptibly, urging him to tell Mustang the whole story. He glanced back to Mustang, "The night that Ed confronted Dante in the underground city, after…after I lost my…_Ed's_ limbs to The Gate, I tried to help him as he fought Envy. I grabbed Envy when he got close enough. He turned on me and started kicking me…what I didn't realize was that he _deliberately_ let me grab him…when he kicked me, he implanted a tiny parasitic copy of himself in my body. That larva has been trying to drive me insane since we left Risembool, and when he failed, he tried to attack my mind directly and possess me…"

Mustang's eye widened with shock and he seemed about to rise from his chair, "What?! He can copy himself?! Where is this larva now?!"

Wrath shook his head, "We don't know…I was able to defeat his attack on my mind and rip him out of my neck. He scurried off and I lost consciousness."

"When was this?"

"Six and a half hours ago, give or take."

"Damn it!" Mustang slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair as he rose to his feet. He turned and paced the rug, one arm tucked behind his back as he stroked his chin with the other hand, "Why the hell didn't you come to me sooner?"

Wrath frowned, crossing his arms, "I was unconscious for six hours…sorry I didn't tell Winry to give you a call before I passed out," he retorted sarcastically.

"Is it possible he created more copies of himself before Al transmuted him? How many could we be talking about here? For all we know he created a damned army of copies!"

Wrath shook his head, "I can't be sure, but since he didn't have contact with anyone else before he was caught up in Al's transmutation, I don't think he made any more back then. I don't think he can make more copies in his current state either, at least for now."

Mustang nodded, glancing back at Wrath, "Equivalent exchange…his current body mass is too small to make a functioning copy."

"Right."

"So," Hawkeye interjected, "How does a homunculus increase his mass? There aren't likely to be any red stones anywhere in Rush Valley."

"Same way a human does…by eating."

Mustang stood in front of the window, his gloved hands clasped placidly behind his back as he gazed out over the snow blanketed city. After a brief moment of contemplation, he spoke, "Havoc, call Central Command; tell them we have a critical situation here and I need a company of Special Forces operatives with civilian clothing – tell them to send Bravo Company. We need to keep our operations covert; otherwise all we'll do is make ourselves an easy target for Envy. We also need weapons and coms equipment."

"Yes sir!"

"Hawkeye."

"Sir!"

"Do you think it's possible Black Hayate might be able to pick up Envy's scent if we head to the automail shop?"

"Possibly, sir. I have trained him in tracking, although he's not officially certified by the military."

"I have complete faith in your abilities with him, Major; certification or no, he's the best dog the army has at its disposal," Mustang said, casting a glance and a wry smile at his aide-d-camp.

"Alright! Havoc, you organize the equipment and manpower; report back here when you're finished. The rest of you, we're heading to Winry's shop; now move out!"

Havoc and Hawkeye stood smartly to attention and saluted. Havoc disappeared into the adjoining room, a small study with a desk and telephone, to make preparations, while Hawkeye strode toward the door with Black Hayate following in step beside her. Winry turned and followed Hawkeye into the corridor, but Wrath hesitated. He stood up and stared at Mustang, who had turned from the window.

"Is there anything else?"

"…no...no, nothing." Wrath replied after a brief silence.

"Then lets move; we've wasted enough time already."

A few droplets of blood marked the spot on the dingy floorboards where Wrath had fallen after his climactic battle with Envy. The sun was waning in the western sky, its dying rays casting the world outside the windows in a fiery glow. Mustang knelt and examined the spot pensively, his fingertips giving a few taps on the floor.

"So this is where you fell...and where did you say you threw Envy after you pulled him out of your neck?"

"Over that way, by the cabinet," Winry interjected, knowing Wrath wasn't entirely clear-headed at the time.

"Major, see if Black Hayate can pick up anything."

Hawkeye nodded, leading the black and white dog over to the spot Winry had indicated. He sniffed around, pacing the floor in long sweeps, back and forth, shortening his track each time. After a moment, he paused, sniffed a few more times, then growled, staring at a small, inconspicuous crack in the corner of the skirting boards. He darted to the spot, pawed at it a few times with a growl, then dashed for the partially open door.

"He's got it!" exclaimed Hawkeye, darting after her dog. Wrath, Winry, Havoc and Mustang scrambled after. The party poured out the front door into the cold, snowy streets and took to their heels, Black Hayate hot on the scent ahead of them. Together they darted in and out of streets and alleys, winding their way through one block and into the next. After a few minutes, Black Hayate suddenly stopped and began pacing around in a circle, alternately sniffing the air and the ground.

"He's lost it!" Wrath growled peevishly.

"No, no...give him a moment, he hasn't lost it yet," Hawkeye replied, intently focused on her dog.

Suddenly, Black Hayate sniffed fervently at the ground between his forepaws, scratching intermittently. His dark claw tips seemed to strike something metallic and hollow.

"Oh no..." Mustang breathed, his shoulders slumping in dejection, "I thought as much."

Hawkeye stepped forward, taking hold of Black Hayate's collar. She praised him and stroked his head as she gently pulled him back and brushed away the snow with her gloved hand. It was a manhole cover, its surface dotted with several small vent holes just big enough to allow Envy's larva body to squeeze through. Hawkeye stared at it for a moment, then stood and glanced at Mustang, her face grim.

Wrath strode forward without a word, pushing past Hawkeye and squatting in front of the cover. He thrust his automail fingers into the slot at the edge of the cover intended for a prying tool, and with one fierce but apparently effortless motion, flipped it aside. He stood up, looking as if he was about to jump right into the gaping hole in the street when Mustang's white gloved hand over his shoulder stopped him.

"Wrath! There's no way we can find something the size of a cockroach in the sewers! Even if we manage to locate him, that place is a rat's nest of gas pipelines! If we fire our guns or I use my flame down there, we could blow this whole damn city to pieces!"

Wrath spun on his heel, slapping Mustang's hand aside, his eyes hard as flint as he stared into the face of the Flame General, "Damn it, Mustang! We can't just sit on our asses and do _nothing_! It's my fault that bastard is loose in Rush Valley, and nobody in this city is safe until he's dead!"

Mustang read in Wrath's eyes that what he really meant was _Winry isn't safe until he's dead._ He stared back resolutely for a moment before heaving a sigh and drawing his pistol with a shrug. He turned and spun the pistol in his hand, offering the grip to Hawkeye.

She furrowed her brow and glanced from the gun to his face, "Sir?"

"If I take it, I might be tempted to use it if the opportunity presents itself. We can't take that chance."

She took the gun and he removed his white ignition cloth gloves, handing them over as well. She looked incredulously at her commander, "Sir, you can't go after a homunculus totally unarmed...that's foolhardy even for you."

Mustang smiled, pulling back his jacket to reveal a fixed blade fighting knife in a scabbard on his belt, "Don't worry about me, Major. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Wrath glanced from one to the other, then nodded and turned to the open manhole. He turned and scrambled down the ladder, followed by Mustang. Finally, Hawkeye carefully lowered Black Hayate into Mustang's arms. The dog allowed himself to be lowered onto the ground before staring back up at his mistress with a wagging tail and an expectant gaze. Only one word was needed to set him to the task of leading Wrath and Mustang on Envy's trail.

"Seek!"

The dog turned and dashed off after the scent trail of their sinister enemy, leading them deeper into the darkness of the frigid sewer system. Even with much of the sewage frozen solid, there was still a fetid, nauseating stench permeating the decrepit, mouldering tunnels. The stones beneath their jackboots were slick with sludge, and both of them were grateful for the hobnails dotting their boot soles. Now and then, jets of steam would suddenly erupt from safety valves on the pipes snaking their way along the walls and ceilings of the tunnels, and a thick veil of mist clung to the floor. The only sounds were the hissing of steam, Black Hayate's panting and their footfalls echoing off the dank walls.

After what seemed like an eternity, the winding tunnels gave way into a large cistern with dozens of pillars upholding the vaulted ceiling. They stepped out onto a catwalk that ran around the perimeter of the room; Black Hayate stopped dead and seemed to be staring into the inky void of darkness. They listened, but the only sound was their measured breaths and the faint trickling of water into the cesspool forty feet below.

"So nice of you to drop in...do you like what I've done with the place?"

Envy's mocking voice cut through the stillness, echoing off the walls so that it appeared to come from everywhere at once. The voice was shrill and raspy, but to Wrath it was unmistakable. If Envy had gained the ability to speak, he must have grown at least a little even in the few short hours since Wrath ripped him out of his neck. _Not good_.

"So you want to play with me do you? Come get me!"

Suddenly a glint of light flashed above them as a broken beer bottle whistled through the air, narrowly missing Wrath's head and shattering on the wall behind him. He glanced up to see a dark shape huddled at the outlet of a small pipe protruding from the wall across from him; it was a dark creature, perhaps a foot and a half tall, with a hunched, skulking posture and what appeared to be spines protruding from its head and sweeping over its back. Two burning red eyes peered through the darkness at Wrath, unblinking and devilish in the dim light. With a skittering, shambling motion, Envy disappeared into the maw of the pipe and the chase was on.

"GO!" Wrath yelled, dashing along the catwalk toward a much larger tunnel opening below the pipe, his jackboots clanging against the steel platform. He dashed through the tunnel, rounding a corner with Mustang close behind. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks; his sensitive ears had detected a metallic whirring sound.

"Shit..."

He barely had time to leap forward, sliding along the grimy cobblestone tunnel as a flood control gate slammed down with a thunderous crash right where he had been standing. On the other side, Mustang slammed his fist against he immovable steel door, "Damnit! Keep going, I'll have to find another way around!"

Envy's shrill, screaming laughter echoed all around him as Wrath clambered to his feet. He dashed after what seemed like the source of the sound, his legs pumping furiously and his footfalls echoing loudly off the slimy walls.

He saw a skittering movement ahead and stooped mid stride, scooping up a bottle from a pile of trash at the edge of the tunnel. He rounded the corner into another tunnel and spotted Envy's vile little form scrambling along ahead of him. With a violent flick of his wrist, he sent the bottle singing through the air toward his target.

Envy stopped and half turned, half ducked, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectile that was nearly half his size. It shattered harmlessly against a pipe behind him and he answered the attack with hissing laughter before darting off down another tunnel. Wrath growled angrily and ran harder, ducking his head under pipes and jumping over debris that littered the tunnel.

He dashed around a corner, ducked a pipe and found himself suddenly sliding down a steep trough filled with frozen sewage. He rocketed downward and shot out the end of the drain like a bullet, sailing through the air in another large cistern. He saw a glint of light in the darkness and reached out, his automail hand clamping around a thin pipe. His momentum was so great he actually spun completely around it before letting go and dropping. He fell at least ten feet before landing less than gracefully on a frozen pool of sewage below. The ice, although fairly thick, shattered beneath his weight and he found himself waist deep in frigid, dirty water.

He growled to himself and scrambled up out of the pool onto a nearby ledge, shaking each leg in disgust, hoping to shed some of the putrid, icy water. He leaned against the wall and quickly pulled off each boot, dumping them in turn before putting them back on. At length he stood up and looked around; he was in a dark, cavernous underground room with a large pool of iced-over sewage in the middle and numerous pillars spaced out at regular intervals throughout, rising high up to a vaulted ceiling above. It was an ancient cistern, originally intended to collect rainwater and act as a reservoir in Rush Valley's arid environment, but since rendered obsolete by modern plumbing and irrigation technology.

Wrath hesitantly felt his way along the slick stone wall, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. There seemed to be a crack of light streaming from under a door or opening somewhere ahead and he tried to make his way to it by following the wall.

"That's it...don't stop now, little boy...you might just get me this time..."

Wrath froze as Envy's voice once again surrounded him. He glanced toward the door to see it swaying very slightly, as if it had been nudged. He quietly but rapidly moved toward it, sliding along the wall until he was within a few feet of the door. He could hear a faint scratching, shuffling sound from within. He drew a deep breath, gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and threw himself at the door, kicking it open with a furious war cry.

He found himself suddenly face to face with Mustang, who was yelling fiercely and brandishing his fighting knife, about to stab Wrath in the face. They both froze and stumbled back a few steps, narrowly avoiding striking each other. They found themselves in an outlet chamber, perhaps twenty feet by fifteen feet, with the door situated beside the grate in the wall that let the treated sewage flow in. Opposite the entrance was a large circular opening with a rusty, crumbling metal grate of vertical bars over it. Beyond that was a sheer cliff, the canyon situated at the edge of Rush Valley, into which the treated sewage flowed. The room was mostly bare except for a ladder, a few paint buckets and some discarded bolts and hinges against one wall, and an old rusted fire door with a shattered safety window against the other. It matched the one he had entered through; apparently it had been replaced at some point due to its condition.

"Shit, I thought you were Envy!" Wrath breathed, un-clenching his fists and relaxing his posture.

Mustang puffed a sigh of relief, sheathing his dagger, "Likewise...good to see you. I gather you lost him?"

Wrath nodded. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead in frustration and dismay, "I..." He sighed, then continued, glancing at Mustang, "Sorry to drag you down here...I guess you were right, but I just had to try..."

Mustang shook his head, slipping his hands into his coat pockets, "Don't worry about it, I would have done the same if I were in your shoes." Black Hayate sat beside Mustang, panting heavily and looking from one to the other.

Suddenly, Wrath became aware of a faint hissing sound filling the chamber that he hadn't noticed before in the confusion. He furrowed his brow, glancing around him and pushing away from the wall, "What the hell...?"

The door behind him slammed shut with a crash. The echo died away and the hissing noise continued. The sudden, horrifying realization hit them both: gas.

"So gentlemen..." came Envy's voice again, its tone mocking and dripping with malice, "How do you like the place I've chosen for your tomb? It seems quite fitting for a couple of vermin like you. When you get back to the Gate, Wrath, do give my regards to Lust and the others, won't you?"

Wrath scanned the room for any possible means of escape. There was none. The hissing continued, heralding their imminent fiery deaths.

"Don't worry, little boy, I'll give my regards to sweet Winry for you...heheh...goodbye!"

Time seemed to slow to a crawl; Wrath lurched forward, grabbing Mustang by his collar and dashing toward the metal grate opposite the door. As he ran by, he grabbed the heavy, rusted metal door with the other hand. In one fluid motion, he flung Mustang unceremoniously against the metal grate and spun around, holding the large metal door in front of him like a shield. Black Hayate dashed to Mustang's side just as they heard a metallic clunk followed by the buzzing hum of an electric generator starting up.

They were suddenly enveloped in a blinding, searing flash as the gas filling the room ignited. Massive explosive force slammed against the fire door shield, flames licking the edges and blasting through the shattered slit window. They were blasted against the grate, which crumpled and tore away from the top of the aperture, its metal creaking and groaning in protest as it scraped away from its stone anchors and swung open like a drawbridge to nowhere. Wrath felt himself sailing, flipping over, the sky and the yawning chasm trading places in his view; only one chance. He thrust out his hand and clamped his metal fingers around one of the rusty bars, his hand sliding to the end of it and clanking against the rim of the grate. The door spun wildly from his grasp, sailing through the air as he reached out desperately with his now free hand. He felt what he sought and clasped his fingers around it like a vice, breathless as he waited to see if he would plunge into the canyon.

As the roaring and ringing in his ears faded, he looked down; he was grasping Mustang's collar in his hand, the Flame General dangling precariously over the gorge below. Mustang was clutching Black Hayate by his thick leather collar, the dog whimpering, frozen stiff in fear. The door tumbled over and over as it plunged into the abyss, falling out of sight before slamming into the canyon floor with a crash that rang off the stone cliffs around them.

Wrath gritted his teeth and summoned all his immense strength, swinging Mustang first one way, then heaving him and Black Hayate back the other way and tossing them up onto the grate. Mustang grasped desperately onto the bars, noticing that the few remaining anchor points holding the grate were groaning in protest against their combined weight. He hoisted Black Hayate, who scrambled into the opening, then pulled himself up to safety.

Wrath reached up and grasped the edge of the grate with both hands, shimmying his way around the edge, moving closer to the wall to take some of the strain off the precarious metal bars. He heaved himself up, clambering on top of it. He stood to enter the opening just as the grate gave way beneath his feet, sending him lurching forward. Mustang reached out and grabbed him by the front of his jacket, pulling him into the hole as the bars clanged and crashed their way down the cliff face, landing at the bottom with a ringing smash.

Mustang and Wrath slumped against opposite sides of the opening, panting and gazing for a silent moment into the abyss that might have been their grave. At length, Mustang knelt down and stroked Black Hayate gently, the courageous dog still trembling from the terrifying ordeal, "That's a boy, it's all over now, you're okay."

"It's not over..." Wrath said, turning from the opening and striding toward the now blown-out doors they had entered through, "It's just started, and it's going to get worse."


	10. Chapter 10

High above the quiet, snow encrusted streets, a lone sniper took aim through his scope, the thin wire cross hairs slowly rising and falling to the rhythm of his breaths. Ahead of him, the grim facade of shattered windows and mouldering bricks loomed up like a specter amidst the skyline of the desert metropolis.

"Skylark in the nest."

"Roger. Moving up."

Several black shadows flitted among the refuse bins and discarded packing crates lining the alleys around the building. Stalking with the silence and speed of ghosts, they moved into position.

"Blackbird, this is Goldfinch, set."

"Roger, hold position."

The morning air was crisp, the sun just beginning to creep over the horizon as special ops team Bravo Company converged on their objective. The target was a derelict building on the outskirts of Rush Valley. Two months of cat and mouse and two dead operatives had led to this moment. Their surveillance had finally caught wind of what appeared to be Envy's hide out. Wrath ran his thumb over the safety of his submachine gun, giving a tug on the magazine to make sure it was seated. His breaths misted from the one-way valve of his gas mask, the vapours wafting upward until they dissipated, only to be replaced by another puff. He wracked his brain, thinking over all the training Major Hawkeye had put him through, and the details of Mustang's carefully crafted plan.

He knew he was in way over his head, but somehow Mustang had seen fit to put him in command of a squad of special forces soldiers. The Major General had merely stared across his desk with a knowing half smile and nodded confidently, not saying another word. _After all_, he had said, _only you really understand how Envy's twisted mind works_. Of course there was also the fact that he could survive trauma that would instantly kill a human. Both factors naturally made him indispensable to the operation. He briefly wondered if that really justified his involvement, or if it just meant he would be the sole survivor bearing the gruesome details back to Mustang. He cocked his weapon and gritted his teeth, choosing instead to focus on the image of Envy going down in a hail of bullets and a shower of blood.

He glanced across the street to where the second team lay crouched and ready, hidden within the shadows of an alley. He gave a nod and they rapidly deployed, darting across the street and into position. The whole building was surrounded now; there would be no escape this time; Envy was going down for good.

"Just give me one clear shot...that's all it will take..." the sniper grinned, flicking the safety off his rifle and taking aim through his telescopic sight. The reticule rose and fell against the darkened windows that stared mutely back from across the square.

"All callsigns, this is Cardinal, cut the damn chatter and ready up, H hour in one mike, over."

Sixty seconds until the moment of truth, until Wrath faced whether all the target practice and tactical training Hawkeye had invested in him would pay off. Focus on the target, look over the weapon, natural fighting stance, squeeze the trigger, don't snatch it, follow through, scan and breathe, move. Sixty seconds seemed like an eternity when he faced the possibility of finally being free of Envy's insidious shadow. Envy, the last sinister remnant of his old life, his old _unlife_, when he was little more than a slave to his passions and the machinations of forces so much greater and more diabolical than himself. In those sixty seconds he realized just how far he had come, and yet the yawning chasm of the distance he had yet to go spread before him, with the hated enemy barring his way forward. Sixty seconds until he faced the fiend who had invaded his mind, twisted his dreams, tried to force him to kill the most precious person in his life, the woman he loved deeply, and yet felt so unworthy of. Envy would pay dearly for that.

"GO!"

Wrath's team plunged forward, erupting from their hiding place with fierce speed and determination belied by the silence of their movements. He paused just before the entrance, "Thrush, blow it!"

One of the black-clad soldiers from the back of Wrath's group dashed to the front; he was a stout, heavy set man whose fiery red eyebrows and moustache could just be made out through the lenses of his gas mask, despite its concealment of his features. Though he was solidly built, he moved with the grace of an alley cat. As he passed Wrath, he could just be heard grumbling to himself, the occasional muffled cuss word barely audible. Wrath smiled to himself; he could only be grousing about one thing, namely that the necessity of wearing gas masks on this operation to prevent Envy seeing their faces and impersonating them meant he was without his beloved stogies. The stocky, ornery Sergeant set an explosive charge in the middle of the heavy oak double doors that led into the foyer. It was a directional shaped charge designed to blast the lock to smithereens and blow the doors open with a minimum of risk to the nearby soldiers. A breathless instant passed as the soldier codenamed Thrush crept back from the door, trailing the detonator wire, and took cover in preparation for the explosive entry.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

The blast ripped through the heavy doors like they were made of cardboard, shaking the derelict building and sending up a cloud of dust and fragments that flooded the foyer beyond.

"Blackbird, this is Cardinal, do it now!"

Wrath didn't hesitate to follow the command; he dashed forward, weapon in his shoulder, leading his team into the hazy, billowing cloud that was slowly dissipating as it spread through the first floor and out into the street. Moving as one, they pushed forward, followed quickly by the second team, the rasping sound of their breaths escaping their gas masks and the soft crunch of their boots on the debris littering the floor were the only sounds in the deathly stillness of the building. There was nothing to see on the first level; no signs of life. They fanned out, Wrath's team taking the left flank, Goldfinch's team taking the right.

"Cardinal; Blackbird, first floor clear, moving up, over," Wrath whispered into his radio mic as he pushed open the stairwell door, his weapon muzzle leading the way into the dusty, shadowy haze of the stairwell.

Slowly, he crept up the stairs, his back to the wall, submachine gun trained at the stairwell above him, each step revealing just a bit more of the next level. He cautiously approached the door to the second floor. He could see that it was slightly ajar, but he could see only a thin section of the hallway beyond through the narrow opening. It was dimly lit and appeared utterly deserted. Wrath crept forward and was about to fling the door open and storm the hall when something suddenly flitted in his peripheral vision; there was a flash of light as the sun suddenly glinted off something metal.

"DIE YOU SONS OF BI -"

The stairwell erupted in gunfire as Wrath and the second soldier in his line instinctively turned and fired in the direction of the threat. The figure squeezed off a few random shots as the bullets ripped through his torso, sending his bloodied form crashing into the window behind him before slumping down in a puddle of blood. His rifle clattered down the steps toward Wrath, its wooden stock splintered and broken by the hail of bullets. _What the hell was going on?!_ The man looked like a street bum, dressed in ragged clothing and wearing a straggly, unkempt beard. Their surveillance had suggested that one or two homeless civilians might be encountered, and the plan was to detain them unharmed, but there was nothing to suggest they would be shooting back!

Wrath's train of thought was suddenly interrupted as the door in front of him slammed open and another hobo burst through the opening. He was brandishing an automatic pistol in each hand and screaming a furious war cry as he dashed into the stairwell. He paused a moment in bewilderment at seeing his dead friend before he noticed the soldiers out of the corner of his eye and spun toward them, leveling his pistols in Wrath's face.

Wrath's mask was splattered with blood as the soldier behind him fired two perfectly aimed shots into the man's face, sending him crumpling into a bloody heap with a splash of blood and brains painting the door behind him.

"BLACKBIRD, GO DAMNIT!"

The soldier who had fired the shots, Kingfisher, was squeezing Wrath's shoulder and yelling at him to get up. The homunculus drew a deep breath and stood up; he knew what had to be done. He stepped forward and hooked around the door frame, his weapon in his shoulder, sweeping around until he was facing one hundred eighty degrees from where he started. As he brought his weapon around, another enemy stepped out from a doorway down the hall; Wrath pumped three rounds through his chest before he could raise his rifle.

"Blackbird, this is Cardinal, what the hell is going on in there?! What's all that damn shooting!?"

"We are under fire!" Wrath spat back through his radio mic, "They just started attacking and all hell broke loose! _You tell me what the hell is going on here!_"

Outside, Skylark could see muzzle flashes briefly illuminating the darkened hallways of the derelict building and faintly hear the shots and yelling from inside. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment and slowly, steadily emptied his lungs to their natural point of rest. His eyes opened and he surveyed the windows for targets; it was time to go to work.

It wasn't long before an enemy foolishly exposed himself out one of the windows, aiming an automatic rifle at one of the sentry team stationed on the perimeter of the building. In one smooth motion, he brought the thin black crosshair to bear just above the figure's head. He aimed two inches left and three inches up to compensate for the wind and the distance to the target. Slowly, steadily, he squeezed the trigger...

The rifle bucked against his shoulder as it belched fire, sending the bullet screaming toward its target. A heartbeat later, the bullet slammed through the center of the man's forehead, blasting out the back in a puff of red mist. His head snapped back with the force of the impact and he toppled backwards, falling out of sight inside the room.

He flicked the bolt back and thrust it forward, chambering a fresh round, then took another breath, scanning the area again as the ejected casing hit the floor. A shadow moved against the frame of another window. Another enemy was nervously peering out, trying to keep himself hidden in the shadows. The sunlight glinted faintly against the muzzle of his rifle as he exposed just a little bit more of his head...

The rifle cracked again and another bullet screamed through the morning air. The bullet tore off half the enemy's face and sent him spinning back into the darkness in a macabre pirouette, his rifle flipping from his grasp as he disappeared from sight in a gush of crimson. Skylark sneered faintly, rapidly working the bolt to chamber another round.

"Standin' around like a bloody idiot...," he muttered under his breath. After a moment, he clicked his mic on, "Cardinal from Skylark, two enemy down, no more movement so far."

Captain Silas Marlowe, codename Cardinal, sat wracking his brain in the command and extraction vehicle in the alley behind the building. A grizzled veteran special forces operative with the state military, he had seen his share of war and death, the marks of which were plainly visible in the stark lines of his weathered features and his prematurely salt-and-pepper hair. _What the hell had happened?! Where the hell did these bums get their hands on that kind of hardware, and how could they have been so prepared for the assault!? _

He had almost laughed in Mustang's face when the Major General had informed him that his target on this operation was a homunculus, but he very quickly learned that Envy was no fairytale, and that the diabolical shape shifter was not to be trifled with. Mustang had taken every possible precaution, dressing his troops in gas masks and helmets and using only codenames in the field in order to prevent Envy from impersonating any of them. Their every move had been shrouded in the utmost secrecy, and yet somehow Envy had been forewarned, or worse yet, had anticipated this assault and had countered it by manipulating homeless squatters into fighting against his troops. He glared at his reflection in the rear windows of the large delivery truck, thumbing the hammer of his pistol as he tried to make sense of the situation. After a moment's thought, he gritted his teeth and pressed the transmit button on his radio handset, "All callsigns, this is Cardinal; Envy knew we were coming; he must have orchestrated all this by somehow manipulating the squatters into fighting us...there's nothing for it now; assault and clear the building. _Take that son of a bitch down!"_

Inside, Wrath ducked into an empty room as a burst of fire ripped through the hall. Half his team was sheltering on the other side, and there were two more in the room behind his. He dropped an empty magazine and slammed in a fresh magazine as another burst of fire splintered the door frame near his head. The enemy had built a barricade of broken furniture and refuse at the far end of the hall, forming a strong point that made a frontal assault suicidal at best. He snarled and yelled out into the hall, "Will you bastards stop shooting at us! We're not here for you; give up and you won't be hurt!"

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID YOU'D SAY YOU MILITARY BASTARDS!" screamed one of the squatters from down the hall, punctuating his response with several blasts from his shotgun.

What the hell were they on about?! Wrath paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. Suddenly, he noticed that the room across the hallway where three of his troops were sheltering had a set of double doors opening to a balcony beyond. He keyed his mic, "Skylark, this is Blackbird, do you copy?"

"Skylark, send."

"There's a balcony off the room across from me...they go all the way up to the top, right?"

"Yeah, they're all lined up on top of each other; two columns, one across from you, and one down at the opposite end. Why?"

"Blackbird, roger. I'm coming out with some of my guys; don't shoot us!"

"_What?!_"

Wrath grabbed a smoke grenade from his webbing harness, ripping the safety pin out and tossing it quickly through the doorway, "SMOKE OUT!"

The sudden appearance and disappearance of his hand brought on a withering barrage of fire that tore large shards from the door frame where he was sheltering, but thankfully missed him. He waited for the smoke to fill, then took a running leap across the hallway to where his troops were huddled. He stumbled through the door and received a pat on the shoulder from his second in command, Heron, for his troubles.

"Alright, listen up!" he said authoritatively, his heart thundering in his ears as adrenaline coursed through his veins, "Heron, you hold this position with Thrush and Goldfinch's team. Magpie, Kingfisher, you two come with me; we're going climbing."

Kingfisher and Magpie nodded in agreement, but shot each other questioning glances as Wrath turned toward the balcony. He pushed open the double doors and stepped out into the morning sunshine as a frigid blast of air rushed into the room. With all the agility of a house cat, he leaped up onto the handrail and jumped up to grasp the balcony of the floor above, nimbly hoisting himself up. He hung onto the outside of the balcony rail with his automail hand, crouched with his toes resting on the lip of the patio, and offered his free hand to Magpie. The trooper wasted no time. He grasped Wrath's hand, and with a combined effort, Wrath tossed him up onto the next level. Kingfisher quickly followed suit and the two soldiers took cover positions on either side of the doors as Wrath vaulted over the wrought iron railing. To their surprise, he didn't un-sling his weapon, but instead backed up to the edge of the balcony, looking across to the far patio as if he was sizing up the gap.

"Hey...hey! Are you nuts? That's gotta be fifteen feet at least!" Kingfisher blurted in alarm.

"Just wait here, I'll be right back..." Wrath said, not taking his eyes off the leap he was about to attempt.

Kingfisher's further protests went unheeded as Wrath dashed across the balcony, launched himself off the railing with an angled jump to the building wall, then in mid jump grasped the window ledge of the floor above. He held on just long enough to plant his boots and launch himself again, sailing across the remainder of the gap and crashing onto the balcony railing on the far side. He flipped over to the front side and hung on, lowering himself just enough to peek into the room. It was clear; he swung down and alighted nimbly on the stone balcony. With the silence of a ghost, he crept into the room, unhooking a grenade from his webbing as he neared the door into the hall. Just beyond lay the barricade and the entrenched defenders. He grasped the grenade and snatched out the pin.

In one rapid movement, Wrath opened the door, thrust the grenade through it and slammed it shut. He dashed back across the room, his limbs pumping furiously; the flimsy wooden door wouldn't protect him from the blast. He jumped up and flung himself onto the balcony above as the doors he had just passed through were blasted to pieces by the explosion. Below, a shower of shattered glass and splintered wood rained down on the empty street. Another reckless jump across the seemingly impassable gap landed him back with Kingfisher and Magpie.

"Goldfinch, this is Blackbird, strong point clear, move up! Taking the next floor from the outside."

"Roger, moving!" Goldfinch shouted back through his radio, the sound of gunfire erupting from below as he and his troops assaulted through the blasted barricade.

Wrath led Magpie and Kingfisher into the derelict room. They lined up beside the door and Wrath very quietly, very slowly opened it a crack. He saw a hobo crouched in the hallway across from him, peering toward the stairwell door and clutching an automatic pistol in his hand. Wrath aimed his weapon at the man's back and rested his finger on the trigger. He opened the door wider, then quickly ducked out to cover the opposite direction down the hall. It was empty.

He crept across the hall with Kingfisher and Magpie right behind, stalked up to the man and pressed his gun muzzle against his head, "Drop the gun or you're dead."

The man started, then hesitated a moment before dropping the gun and raising his hands. Wrath kicked it back toward Magpie, who scooped it up, then slammed his boot into the man's back, driving him to the floor, "_Don't move!_ Kingfisher, cuff him!"

Kingfisher dove onto the prostrate squatter, rapidly cuffing his hands behind his back while Wrath stepped forward, scanning the hallway with his gun up and ready. An eerie silence fell over the building as the gunfire from below ceased. The radio squelched to life, "Blackbird from Goldfinch, second level clear, coming up now, over."

Suddenly a door down the hall burst open and another man lurched out, leveling a shotgun at Kingfisher and the captured squatter. Wrath threw himself between them and the blast of buckshot, taking it full force in the chest. He stumbled back with a grunt as he fired from the hip, the bullets ripping through the man's torso in a diagonal line from his left hip to his right shoulder. The attacker choked and vomited blood, toppling into a lead riddled heap, his shotgun clattering on the dusty floor. Wrath sank to one knee, coughing blood into his mask. It drained from his one-way valve and puddled on the floor as he steadied himself with a hand against the wall.

Kingfisher lurched forward to catch Wrath, expecting him to collapse, but was bewildered to instead see the homunculus calmly stand to his full height, his gun held by his side, and turn toward him.

"You okay?"

The soldier blinked in amazement, nodding slowly, "Yeah..."

As he watched, several pellets were forced out of the holes in Wrath's uniform as his flesh rapidly healed behind them. They clattered on the floor as Wrath turned his back again.

The homunculus heaved a deep sigh, ripping his mask and helmet off. He pressed his back against the wall and rested his head against the dusty, tattered wallpaper, staring up at the ceiling. He was about to say something when a dark form burst from the open door at the end of the hall and bounded out of sight around the corner; _Envy!_

Without another thought, Wrath dashed after the figure, leaving his teammates behind. He disappeared around the corner and through a door that was still ajar. Inside was a staircase that led three more stories up to the roof access turret. He heard rapid footfalls followed by a loud metallic bang as the roof door was slammed open.

"Cardinal, this is Skylark, one enemy sighted on the roof...looks like he might match the target description..."

"Shoot him!" Wrath broke in, "Shoot him NOW!"

"Negative! Hold your fire!" Cardinal shouted back, "_Do not shoot that man, do you hear me?!_"

Wrath snarled, dashing up the stairs and kicking open the door at the top.

"Blackbird, respond!" Cardinal shouted into his handset; white noise was the only reply.

Wrath burst into the blinding sunlight, his weapon raised and ready to gun down his enemy on sight. He spun around and found himself aiming at the back of a silhouette that was haloed in sunlight. Training his muzzle on the target, he prepared to squeeze the trigger, "Turn around, you son of a bitch, so I can shoot you in the face!"

The figure didn't move. Cardinal's voice broke in through Wrath's headset, "Blackbird, that's not Envy, detain him and lets get out of here!"

Skylark's urgent voice suddenly crackled over the radio, "_-_w_hat the hell_-_?!_"

"What are you talking about?!" Wrath growled into his mic, then threw aside his headset, shrugged off his radio in frustration and yelled again at the figure, "I SAID GET YOUR HANDS UP AND TURN AROUND, _NOW!_"

The figure raised his hands and slowly turned around. As Wrath's eyes began to adjust to the bright back lighting, he could see that it was not Envy's face, but that of a dingy, anonymous street bum that gazed back at him. The man was faintly trembling, his breaths coming in short, rapid gasps.

"Blackbird, this is Cardinal; _listen to me!_ Envy is long gone, he wouldn't be so stupid as to risk escaping to the roof and getting shot by Skylark, _not after all this!_" Cardinal's voice squawked from the discarded headset.

"You think you're pretty damn clever, don't you? You think you're gonna fool me with this bullshit? Not this time asshole..." Wrath's voice was low and unwavering, his dark eyes glaring over the gun sight at his foe.

"P..please...d..don't kill me...I..." the man pleaded, his eyes wide.

"SHUT UP! Show me your true face, you gruesome bastard..._if you're not too much of a_ _coward!_"

"I don't know-!"

"Get on your knees...NOW!"

The man slowly knelt down on the snow blanketed roof, putting his hands behind his head and panting in terror as he stared down the barrel of Wrath's gun. The homunculus slung his submachine gun behind his back and drew his pistol, striding across to the terrified squatter. Grabbing the man's long, stringy black hair, Wrath tugged his head back and thrust the muzzle of the pistol between his chattering teeth.

Tears streamed down the man's dingy face as Wrath cocked the hammer, "If you insist on hiding behind this face, I'll just have to blast it off, _you cowardly piece of shit..._"

Suddenly the door behind him slammed open and Magpie and Kingfisher burst out onto the roof. Kingfisher slung his weapon and took a step toward Wrath, "Wrath, listen to me! That is not Envy! There's no possible way he would be so stupid as to try to escape through the roof knowing Skylark would shoot him! Do you really think he had the brains to plan all this, but made a stupid rookie mistake like that?!"

"It's just another trick...he knew you'd think that way and he's double bluffing us..."

"LISTEN TO ME!" Kingfisher pleaded, taking a few steps closer, "That is _NOT ENVY!_ If you shoot that man, you're killing an unarmed civilian who is _surrendering_ to you, now stand down, damn it!"

Wrath's hand began to tremble faintly as he stared into the terror stricken eyes he believed belonged to his bitterest enemy. He hesitated, taking deep, rapid breaths as he stood on the precipice of slaughter, preparing to splatter the pristine white snow in bloody crimson. Suddenly Kingfisher was beside him, his gloved hand resting on his trembling shoulder.

"Wrath...don't give in...that's what he would want, to make you cross the line and kill an innocent bystander..._you did good today, kid...just let it go for now._"

A breathless moment passed. Slowly, the homunculus withdrew the pistol and let it dangle loosely by his side. A chill wind blew across the rooftop, whipping through his long sable hair and swirling little clouds of white powdery snow around his boots. He shivered, but not from the cold, as he realized just how close he came to murdering an innocent man; a sickly despair washed over him as his little illusions were shattered. After he had expelled Envy from integration with his mind, he had dared to hope that all the savage blood lust he felt that dark night in the alley, all the darkness that had plagued his dreams, had sprung from Envy's malignant influence alone. As he stared at the kneeling figure before him, he knew that at least a measure of that darkness, that savagery, was a curse all his own that he had yet to rise above.

The squatter's eyes rolled back in his head as he fainted and collapsed with a quiet thump. Magpie rushed to the man and quickly handcuffed him.

"Cardinal, this is Kingfisher, one more prisoner secured. Area clear."

"All units, this is Cardinal, move to extraction. Bring the two prisoners with you; we need to figure out just what the hell happened here."

"Goldfinch copies..."

Wrath strode slowly to his discarded radio and hoisted the heavy backpack unit, setting the headset back over his ears as he slung on the shoulder straps, "Blackbird copies."

"Skylark, this is Cardinal, do you copy?"

Wrath furrowed his brow and glanced across the street to an open attic window, the sniper's chosen nest. There was no movement.

"Skylark, Cardinal, do you copy? Get out of there, now!"

As Wrath watched, a figure appeared silhouetted in the open window, its features cloaked in inky shadow. It seemed to be staring straight across at him.

"Skylark here...roger that, moving out."

A few hours later, the man Wrath had nearly executed sat bewildered in a folding metal chair in a starkly furnished room with blacked out windows. In contrast to his previously disheveled appearance, he was now shaved, showered and dressed in a new three piece suit. He sat in front of a simple wooden desk with a wooden swivel chair, as if he was about to take part in some outre job interview. A cup of coffee which had been provided for him sat steaming on the edge of the desk. He glanced at it, took a sip, then put it back and resumed staring at the room's only door.

After a moment, the door opened and Mustang stepped inside. He strode nonchalantly to the desk and sat in the wooden chair. He leaned back with a relaxed air and folded his hands in front of him, interlacing his gloved fingers as he regarded his subject with considerable interest.

"How's the coffee?" Mustang asked at length.

"Uh...good?" the man answered hesitantly, reaching out and taking another sip as if in reply. This time he clutched the mug in front of him, his eyes fixed on the general.

"My name is Major General Roy Mustang. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, mister...?"

The man's eyes widened at the name of the famous Flame Alchemist, the man who toppled the Fuhrer-King, but he blinked and shook his head slightly, "Ah...Fairlane...Michael Fairlane. My friends just call me Mick."

"I'm sure this must all seem strange to you, but I assure you we mean you no harm. I suspect you're starting to understand that now."

Fairlane nodded slowly, glancing around the room. His eyes flitted to the large, conspicuously placed 'mirror' behind Mustang, then back to the general's single eye. Mustang's smile broadened faintly, "Rest assured, after we've found out what we need to know, we will release you unharmed. I'll make sure you're compensated well for the inconvenience."

"You want to know about the woman, then?"

Mustang furrowed his brow, nodding as he leaned forward, his interest piqued, "What I want to know is what made your friends decide to try to kill my soldiers, and where they got the weapons, so if this woman has anything to do with it, then please go on."

Fairlane took a longer sip, his shoulders relaxing as he seemed to become more at ease, "I told them it was crazy, that even if it was true, we should have just run, but they never listen to me..."

Mustang nodded, pensively resting his chin against his folded hands, "Go on..."

"She showed up one day; tall, gorgeous blonde dressed in a military officer's uniform, said she was a Major...Hawlings...Hawthorne..."

"Hawkeye?" Mustang asked, his eye widening in surprise.

"Yeah, that's it! You know her?"

"Tell me more."

"Hrhm...well, anyways, this pretty army officer tells us that all these soldiers that have been creeping around Rush Valley for the last few months ain't actually here to help the police keep the peace. She says they're really here for an 'Urban Renewal Project'...and she says the project is to get rid of the 'undesirables' like us once and for all, clean up the urban blight and all that.

She said she couldn't stomach it, so she defected and was tryin' to warn everyone, organize us so we could defend ourselves. I didn't believe her, like I said, but one day she shows up with a truck full of guns and starts handing em out, teaching everyone how to use em and all. I told them it's suicide to go against trained soldiers, and if they really believed her they should have skipped town as soon as they could, but a lot of em weren't quite right in the head, ya know? Just as many were stubborn mules and wouldn't stand for being hunted down like that. They said it was just like the old government under Fuhrer Bradley, and it wouldn't matter where ya ran, the army'd hunt ya down. Better to make a stand, they said...'course, when all your men showed up dressed in black and wearing gas masks, they were convinced and nothing I could say would hold them back. They shoulda listened..."

He sighed and stared down into his coffee, falling silent.

"I'm truly sorry for what happened..." Mustang said quietly, leaning forward and pushing his chair back, his forearms resting over his knees, "Please believe me, the story she told you was a complete lie; we had no intention of harming you or your friends...s_he_ was the real target."

Fairlane looked up in surprise, furrowing his brow.

"The woman you spoke to is..." Mustang hesitated; he couldn't possibly tell the truth, or the man would think he was either a liar or insane. He sighed, standing up and turning to face the mirror; Fairlane could see that his reflection bore a pained expression.

"The woman is a dangerous war criminal and a defector, a Bradley loyalist that the military has been hunting since the fall of the Fuhrer's regime. She must have anticipated we were on to her and manipulated your friends into a confrontation with my troops...a plan as ruthless as it was cunning."

Fairlane nodded, staring intently into his coffee for a long moment before he raised his eyes again.

Mustang turned to face him, his hands behind his back.

He seemed to be studying Mustang's features. At length he stood up, setting his mug down on the desk, "...they shot first, that's a fact. Your men were only defending themselves. She's the one to blame...and I hope you bring her to justice. Fuhrer Bradley brought enough suffering to this country...it's high time we stamp out every last trace of him."

Mustang nodded solemnly, his voice low and steady, "Believe me, I will do everything in my power to make that happen."

Mustang snapped his fingers and the door abruptly opened. Two soldiers stepped inside, came smartly to attention and saluted. Mustang turned to them, breifly returning the salute before gesturing toward Mick Fairlane, "See that Mr. Fairlane makes his train and that he receives the compensation I mentioned."

Fairlane furrowed his brow, glancing at Mustang, "Train?"

"I'm sure you can appreciate that Rush Valley is no longer safe for you, Mr. Fairlane. If Major Hawkeye finds out you've survived the assault and that you've assisted us, you're as good as dead. I hope you'll forgive the liberty, but I've arranged for a contact of mine in East City HQ to arrange lodgings and employment for you there until you've had a chance to get back on your feet. Once this situation is resolved, I'll send word and you can return here if you wish."

The vagabond looked startled for a moment, then gave a sombre nod, "That's very generous of you sir...I reckon there's not much point in sticking around here anyways..."

He turned to leave with the two soldiers escorting him, when suddenly he stopped and turned back toward Mustang again, "One thing still bothers me though, sir...that young man with the long dark hair...he seemed to think I was someone else..."

A grim look from Mustang stopped his question before he could finish it. Mustang shook his head gravely, "Some questions are better left unanswered, Mr. Fairlane. Good day."

They disappeared through the door, leaving Mustang alone with his thoughts. A minute or two passed before the door opened again and Hawkeye entered, having been hidden in the adjoining room behind the one way glass, observing the entire exchange. She shut the door behind her, regarding Mustang with a bemused smirk, "You really threw me under the bus this time, didn't you sir?"

"Damnit!" Mustang growled under his breath, punching the table.

"Sir...?"

"That _bastard!_" growled Mustang, his fists and teeth clenched, "I thought I destroyed him for good...I thought it was over, but today proves it isn't. What happened was unacceptable...it can't be allowed to happen again."

"Even Fairlane said it, sir; they shot first."

"It doesn't matter! That son of a bitch outmaneuvered us, and I won't stand for it!"

Hawkeye sighed and crossed her arms, regarding her commander with mild peevishness. He could get very pigheaded about things at times. It had been some time since anything as trying as this situation had arisen, but she should have known sooner or later he'd be back to his old ways.

"By the way, sir, I should let you know that Wrath was pretty upset about what happened today. He told me he should be cut from the operation. He feels as though he's a detriment and he's going to get one of us killed sooner or later."

Mustang turned to her with a surprised look, "Did he? I was actually thinking the opposite. He did better than I expected, all things considered...from what I heard, he saved Corporal Pershing's life...just stepped up and took a load of buckshot straight to the chest."

Hawkeye nodded, then glanced away pensively, seeming to stare through the wall behind Mustang.

"You don't agree?" he broke her train of thought with his question and her gaze returned to him.

"I...I don't know, sir...I'm not sure what to think about him. The homunculi or someone involved with them killed general Hughes...Bradley nearly killed you...they almost killed the Elric brothers dozens of times...I can't help but feel that we're playing with fire here and sooner or later we're going to get burned. With all due respect, General, are you _sure_ your judgment is clear in this matter?"

Mustang smiled his typical enigmatic smile in response to her confession. He slid his hands into his pockets with a nonchalant shrug, "When I faced Bradley in the wine cellar that night, even as I was fighting him, even with his sword buried in my chest, there was a small part of me that wanted to see some kind of humanity in him. Isn't that crazy? Somehow I wanted to believe that maybe the man I had bled for, killed for, that my best friend had died for, had some little spark of redeeming value, and for a brief moment I let myself believe he loved Selim...right up until I watched him snap the boy's neck with his bare hands."

Hawkeye listened with pain filling her cobalt eyes; Mustang had never spoken of what exactly transpired on that terrible night, saying only that Bradley had killed his 'son', adding another name to the list of people the Flame Alchemist had failed to save.

"He was a complete monster, Major...there wasn't a shred of human decency in him, so I burned him until there was nothing left but slime, and then I burned that too. I don't see a monster when I look at Wrath; I see a young man who risked his life to help Edward fight Envy the night he first crossed over, then risked his life again to protect Alphonse and bring Edward back. I see a young man who has devoted himself to protecting Winry Rockbell, and that compels me to think that he's somehow become something more than a mere imitation of a dead human. If that's the case, then isn't it our duty to support him?"

"That's for you to decide, sir," she replied flatly.

He smiled in reply; he knew that her concern was primarily for him, and that was just fine. He started for the door, but paused as he passed her, "By the way, Major; where is he now?"

"I instructed him to rendezvous with Skylark; he was out on recon all day and radioed in that he had intelligence to report. I felt that a bit of time to himself might help clear his head."

Mustang flashed a roguish smirk, "Good work, Major; that ought to give me just enough time to make up for 'throwing you under the bus,' as you put it, by treating you to lunch at that bistro down the street."

"Incorrigible, sir."

Mustang let his self satisfied smile be his reply as he strolled from the room with his hands clasped demurely behind his back.


	11. Chapter 11

"You look like shit."

Wrath stood leaning against the brick facade of the public library, his hands thrust into the pockets of his black pea-coat, his head resting against the wall as he stared at the sky. In silence he watched the mist of his breaths waft upward in the frigid air. He half turned his head, glancing at Paninya out of the corner of his eye as she greeted him with the honest but less than flattering salutation.

"You have such a way with words..." he said dryly, casting his eyes skyward again.

"I mean it, Wrath! You can't run yourself ragged like this! You _do_ have limits, you know!"

His eyes slipped closed as he let out a quiet sigh, "Save it, Paninya. I'm not about to stop...not until that son of a bitch is dead and buried..._permanently_." He was irritated; she had no clue what had transpired that morning, and here she was lecturing him about taking care of himself.

She stepped in front of him, planting her feet and staring hard into his face, though he continued to avoid her gaze, "I get it, okay! _I do! _You're doing this for Winry, but you've been hunting him twenty four hours a day for two months! Even you need to rest sometimes, get away from all this...you'll drive yourself mad with this obsession..."

Wrath scowled and shot a hard, withering glance at her, "_Obsession?_ We've already lost two men to that bastard, not to mention the dozen or so vagrants we killed in a gun fight today because Envy tricked them into thinking we were out to murder them...how many more people are going to die because of _my mistakes?_ Because I unleashed that...that _demon_ on this city?"

"It wasn't your fault, Wrath! They were experienced soldiers...they knew what they were getting into. They wouldn't want you blaming yourself."

He lurched forward suddenly, striding away from the wall, "I've got a rendezvous in ten minutes. Come if you want to."

Paninya growled in frustration, stomping off after Wrath as he strode down the snow blanketed street. She dashed up behind him and grabbed his wrist just as he was about to descend a staircase into a lower street. She yanked hard and he spun on his heel, "_I care about you, idiot!_ I don't want to see Winry lose you because you were too damn pig headed to listen to reason and give yourself a break!"

He glared at her, "Is that really it, or is there something else?"

She drew back, eying him suspiciously, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you sure your concern is really about Winry?"

She scowled, though it seemed he could see a blush colour her swarthy cheeks for a moment before it vanished. She glared up at him, "You can be a real jerk, you know that?"

She pushed past him angrily and stomped down the steps behind him, striding away rapidly down the alley, ironically walking in exactly the same direction he had to go. He paused for a moment, considering what to do; he had come close to calling her out regarding the feelings he suspected she harbored for him. His frustration about the situation with Winry, the necessity of constant vigilance against Envy preventing him from exploring the tender connection they had forged the morning he gave her the nightingale was making him irritable about Paninya's affections. It wasn't fair, he decided, and he started off after her.

He caught up to her in a large public square not far from his planned rendezvous point. He dashed past her and blocked her path, turning to face her, "Paninya, I'm sorry!"

He was surprised at what he saw; her eyes, normally so steadfast, were wet with tears. A look of surprise washed over her features before she averted her gaze and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. A tinge of red seemed to flush her cheeks for a moment before vanishing again.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I know you're just concerned for me...it's good to have a friend who cares enough to read me the riot act now and then."

She crossed one arm across her stomach, grasping the other arm as she glanced away, "Yeah, I guess..."

He frowned, unsure of how to soothe her hurt feelings; sometimes he wondered if getting in gun fights and chasing a shape-shifting homunculus might be easier than dealing with the emotions of women. He ran his fingers through his wild black hair in exasperation, at a loss for words but knowing he had to say something to mend the damage.

"Hi Wrath..." Skylark's voice suddenly cut through his confused mind as he saw the tall, slender Sergeant approaching in his peripheral vision. He cast a glance in the direction of the voice. Skylark, Sergeant Kane Jackson, was strolling toward him through the sparse crowd mulling about the square. He bore an easy smile on his youthful features, his close-cropped brush of dirty blonde hair tussled by the breeze. He wore a black overcoat and a white scarf wrapped around his neck and draped over one shoulder. He gave a quick wave as he drew closer.

"The sun was brilliant this morning, wasn't it?" Wrath said, throwing out the challenge phrase in an offhand manner, his attention divided by the emotionally turbulent female police officer standing in front of him.

Mustang had decided to use an old military trick to prevent Envy from infiltrating their group; whenever they met after having been apart for any amount of time, the soldiers would exchange a challenge and response. The challenge was meant to be something innocuous that anyone might say when meeting a friend in the street, but the reply, 'While the shadows are cold and deep' was deliberately strange and obscure, to prevent Envy from saying it by chance.

"_Yeah, it was pretty spectacular from where I was standing..._"

Wrath's eyes widened as the sickly horror of realization flooded over him; he saw a flash of metal and dove forward, thrusting out his automail arm to protect Paninya. There was a shredding sound as his coat sleeve was torn, accompanied by the strident clash of steel on steel as the vicious slash of Envy's dagger was deflected in a burst of sparks.

He crashed into Paninya, knocking her to the ground and out of the way as Envy dove on him like a maniacal demon, plunging the dagger's gleaming point toward his heart. He grabbed Envy's wrists and thrust his foot into the shape-shifter's stomach, rolling back and throwing him off.

Envy cartwheeled in the air and landed nimbly on his feet, brandishing the dagger with a devilish grin as his body metamorphosed back to his typical androgynous form, "Pretty quick there, _boy_...what gave me away?"

Wrath sprang to his feet, facing off with Envy, his fists raised and ready for a fight, "_Bastard! _You killed Skylark while we were assaulting the building, didn't you?!"

Envy's maniacal grin broadened, curling the corners of his twisted lips, "Nice little piece of work, wasn't it? I knew you fools would try something like that...don't worry, he died quick, but you two...you're gonna die slow a-"

BLAMBLAMBLAM

The bullets slammed into Envy's torso like blows from a sledgehammer, blasting massive cavities in his flesh and staggering him back with each hit. Bursts of crimson splashed from his back as the rounds ripped through him, leaving gaping holes that slowly began to close as he stared in wide eyed astonishment at the smoking revolver in Paninya's hand, _"D...damn you!"_

Wrath glanced at Paninya in surprise; she was aiming a large revolver with a thick frame and a set of ebony grips, not her usual break-action sidearm. A sinuous billow of smoke was wafting from the barrel as she aimed the gun at Envy's head. She sneered at him, cocking the hammer, "I see I have your attention. This is a .44 Magnum with cast lead bullets - I cut an X into the head of each round so that they mushroom out when they hit for maximum damage...now get on your face before I turn your head into a fine pink mist, asshole!"

Envy coughed and sputtered, droplets of blood staining his lips as the holes in his torso regenerated. He grinned devilishly at her, "Why of course officer...please, go ahead and arrest me..."

He began to lower his stance, but suddenly fired the dagger at her with a snap of his arm. The blade zipped past her at incredible speed, nicking her arm and slashing it open as she narrowly avoided taking it full in the chest. Envy was off like a shot as Wrath dashed to Paninya's aid. She shoved him aside with a snarl and took aim at Envy's retreating back; when she had fired the first three shots, the crowd in the square panicked and now people were running in every direction, making another shot impossible.

"It's just a flesh wound, damn it! Get after him!" she growled at Wrath "I'll get to the rooftops to try and cut him off!"

Wrath blinked in astonishment for a moment, then nodded, turning and dashing off through the crowd after Envy with Paninya close at his heels.

Envy leapt over a car that screetched to a halt to avoid running him over, followed moments later by Wrath who jumped up and slid across the hood. The driver leaned out of the window to shake a fist and yell obscenities at the two homunculi as they disappeared down a cross street on the far side of the road.

Paninya broke right, holstering her revolver and propelling herself into a massive leap that carried her up to a fire escape ladder ten feet from the sidewalk on the wall of a building. She clambered up the ladder to the first platform, then dashed up the stairs, her jackboots clanging on the wrought iron grating. She vaulted over the railing as she reached the top, dashing across the snow covered roof at incredible speed and kicking up puffs of powdery snow with every step. She reached the ledge just in time to see Envy shoving aside bystanders as he sprinted through the streets. As he was about to start rounding a corner, she leveled her gun, cocked the hammer and took aim.

There was a thunderous boom that echoed off the nearby buildings and another mushroom bullet smashed through Envy's right shoulder, spinning him head over heels and landing him in a heap of trash at the corner of the street. Wrath made up ground, but it wasn't enough and Envy was up and running again in moments with Wrath close behind. Paninya cursed under her breath and shoved her gun back into its holster, taking to her heels again to shadow the pursuit from the rooftops. She reached the end of the block and launched herself into a wild, reckless leap. She barely made the gap, her boots slamming onto the far ledge and forcing her to somersault forward to avoid falling backward and off the roof. Her forage cap flew off into the snow, but there wasn't a second to spare, so she plunged onward, leaping over skylights and turbine vents, periodically casting a sidelong glance to be sure she still had Envy's dark form in sight.

Wrath's limbs pumped furiously as he dashed after Envy, his long hair blowing wildly behind him as he weaved and ducked around shocked bystanders, leaping over one man whom Envy had shoved to the ground in his flight. Envy dashed recklessly across the next street just as a large delivery truck blasted its horn and slammed on its brakes; he vanished behind it as it stopped immediately in Wrath's way. Without missing a beat, Wrath launched himself into a feet-first slide and zipped under the middle of the truck, his boots striking the curb on the far side of the road and bouncing him right back onto his feet. He was off running again in an instant.

Ahead, another bullet struck the wall just behind Envy's head as he turned and sprinted down an alley; Wrath knew now where Envy was heading. The alley led into the boulevard that ran in front of Edge Park - he planned to make his escape into the canyon and vanish in the sewer outlets that protruded from the cliff. Wrath gritted his teeth and pushed harder; he had to stop Envy before he escaped again!

Above his head, Paninya reached the edge of the final roof and made a wild leap, catching a drainpipe with her automail hand and sliding down the wall of the building. Her boots slid down the icy bricks with ease until she landed on a ledge and leaped off again, turning in the air to land on all fours in the street near Wrath, "He's going for the park! We have to stop him!"

"I KNOW!" Wrath yelled back, watching as Envy disappeared through the open wrought iron gates of the park two hundred yards ahead.

The last two hundred yards to the gate might as well have been a mile; it felt like an eternity with Envy out of sight as Wrath and Paninya all but despaired of catching him. Breathless, they rounded the corner into the park, pausing to scan for Envy.

Envy was near the canyon railing, his form in profile as he stood facing a figure draped in what appeared to be white robes hunched in a wheelchair. They seemed to be conversing as Wrath and Paninya entered, though they were too far away to decipher what was being said. As they watched, Envy reached out a hand toward the figure in the wheelchair, taking a step forward. Was he planning to take a hostage?!

"ENVY!" Paninya roared, drawing her gun and taking careful aim before firing again. The muzzle belched fire and jumped violently in her hand, the ear splitting blast echoing back loudly from the canyon beyond.

Envy shot a glance at her as she screamed his name, only to have his lower jaw torn off by the massive bullet. His head snapped to the side and he stumbled a few steps, reeling from the thunderous impact of the powerful round. He stumbled to the railing, grabbing it to steady himself before turning back to them with fury burning in his dark eyes; the lower half of his face was reduced to a gruesome, dripping mass of shredded flesh and splintered bone. He glared at them and screamed hatefully from his gaping throat before turning and vaulting over the railing.

Wrath dashed to the barrier, grasping desperately in a vain attempt to catch Envy. His fist clamped shut, narrowly missing the flailing strands of Envy's hair. He leaned over, his automail arm dangling empty handed over the edge as he watched Envy plunge down the cliff face.

As he looked on, Envy grasped a protruding gas pipe at the last moment and landed gracefully on a sewer pipe outlet. The monster turned his newly regenerated face toward Wrath and flashed a devilish, mocking grin before vanishing into the sewers.

Wrath clung to the railing, looking past his steel fingers in despair at the icy floor of the canyon far below. He clenched his fist and slammed it against the wrought iron bars in frustration, "DAMN IT!"

He turned and sank down with his back against the bars, sitting with his fingers clenched in his hair in utter exasperation. He gritted his teeth to choke back tears of rage and dread as his fear for Winry's life gnawed at his psyche. As he sat trying to regain his composure, he heard Paninya's footsteps approach the person seated in the wheelchair nearby.

"Um...are you okay...?" Paninya's voice was uncharacteristically hesitant, as if she wasn't entirely sure what to make of the figure before her.

"Yes...yes, of course, but young man, you must tell me who built that arm of yours!"

Wrath's eyes widened as he heard the woman speak; though he knew it must be a woman by the pitch, the voice was gravelly and harsh, as if ravaged by sickness. He rose to his feet, steadying himself on the handrail, and looked over the unusual woman before him.

She was draped from head to foot in white, silken robes that wrapped around her head and draped over her shoulders and body. Her skeletal hands were wreathed in lace kid gloves, the forearms beyond wrapped tightly in yellow stained bandages. The most startling aspect of her appearance, however, was the gleaming porcelain mask that covered her face; it was stark white and perfectly smooth, cast in the image of a young woman with a serene, almost angelic expression. The immutable lips were parted just slightly, as in an eternal, soundless whisper, creating a slit in the mask to permit the wearer's voice to pass through more clearly. The eye holes were deep set and narrow, obscuring the wearer's eyes in shadow.

"Oh, please excuse me!" she continued in her raspy, halting voice, "Thank you so much for saving me from that...that strange person just now...but your arm, I must know, who made it?"

Wrath glanced down at his steel palm, clenching his fist before looking back to her irenic mask, "Winry Rockbell, of W and W automail. Why do you ask?"

"That arm...it is the work of a true master...it's exsquisite in every way! Absolutely incredible!"

Wrath couldn't help but smile faintly at that, "Yeah...it sure is; you obviously know your automail. What makes you so interested, I wonder? You don't seem to have any..."

She shook her head, her unblinking gaze fixed on Wrath's face, "Ah, please allow me to explain. My name is Elisei Portinari, and my interest in automail stems from my disease...I suffer from a rare and deadly form of severe leprosy that is causing my body to decompose, hence my unusual manner of dress."

Wrath knitted his brows pensively, "So...what does that have to do with automail?"

"Please, this is not the time and place for such a discussion. It seems I owe you my life; allow me to invite you and your friend Miss Rockbell to my mansion tomorrow night for dinner - it's the least I can do to thank you. Also, I have a proposal for your mechanic which I think she will find very much worth her while. I will send word to her at her shop tomorrow morning. Please let her know to expect a package from me."

"A package? What for?"

A couging fit suddenly overtook her frail body, wracking her until she rested her smooth porcelain forehead in a withered hand and looked as if she might faint. She half turned her frozen face toward them, "Please forgive me, I must go home to rest for now. I hope to see you tomorrow evening so I can thank you properly. Good day."

With that, she took hold of the rungs of her wheelchair and turned herself around, rolling slowly away from them and out of sight through the park gates. Paninya and Wrath glanced at each other with wondering gazes until Wrath shrugged and thrust his hands into his coat pockets with a sharp sigh. He glanced at Paninya's arm, nodding toward the still oozing wound and the crimson stain on her sleeve, "Are you okay?"

She covered the wound with her glove, seeming to have forgotten it in excitement of the chase and the strange encounter that followed, "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

Wrath remained taciturn, his lips drawn into a taut line, as though he didn't accept her assurances. She forced herself to smile and gave him a soft punch in the arm, "Hey, don't look so down in the mouth! We'll get him, okay? Just go home for now and take care of that sweet girl of yours."

She strolled off, casting a nonchalant wave over her shoulder as a chill wind rustled through her ponytail and ruffled her uniform. Wrath cast one more glance at the edge of the cliff before turning to head for home.

A few minutes walk found him at the front doors of the shop. Two young soldiers stood guard outside in civilian clothes, their lack of uniforms not quite enough to make them inconspicuous. The taller one had blonde hair buzzed into a short brush cut and steely gray eyes. He was strongly built, with wide shoulders and a thick chest. The shorter of the two, a dark haired youth with a slight build and a pair of steel rimmed glasses, smiled warmly at Wrath as he approached, "Hey Mr. Curtis...how did the mission go?"

Wrath stopped a few feet from them, his hands thrust in his pockets as he glanced from one to the other, his expression grim and humourless. Suddenly, he lunged at them with bewildering speed, grasping the shorter soldier's wrist and twisting his arm behind his back. With his free hand he snatched the concealed pistol from the soldier's belt holster and pressed the gun against his head. He glared over the gun at the taller soldier who drew his pistol and aimed it at Wrath's face in utter astonishment.

"What's the challenge, soldier?" Wrath demanded, his voice low and menacing.

The tall, muscular trooper blinked a few times, the gun shaking faintly in his grip. Suddenly, something seemed to dawn on him. "Th...the sun was b...brilliant this morning, wasn't it?" he stammered.

"While the shadows are cold and deep," Wrath growled back in reply. He released the young soldier's arm and smacked the gun against his chest. He fumbled it a few times before getting a grip on it, holding it sheepishly as Wrath paced in front of them a few times, rubbing his forehead in obvious annoyance.

"Skylark...Sergeant Jackson...was killed today," he said bluntly, stopping and turning to face them again, "I'd really prefer not to have to report to Mustang that he needs to bury two more soldiers."

They exchanged wide eyed glances as the colour drained from their faces.

"But more importantly, as long as you're standing guard on this building, _HER_ life," Wrath continued, jabbing a finger at the door to emphasize his point, "Is in your hands, and I will _NOT_ tolerate you two taking that responsibility lightly, _do you understand me?_"

"Sir, yes sir!" they replied in unison, snapping smartly to attention.

"Good," Wrath snarled, brushing past them and through the door without another word, leaving them blinking in shock behind him.

The door closed with a heavy thud and Wrath strode on through the inner door into the workshop. The shop floor was dark, illuminated only by the pallid moonlight streaming from the clerestory windows. He tossed his coat on the table in the kitchen and headed upstairs.

Flickering light was glowing from the window in his study door, so he quietly pushed it open. Inside, a mostly melted candle was burning in the candlestick on the round table, and beyond, the last flames of a slowly dying fire could be seen dancing in the fireplace. He stepped inside and quietly shut the door before walking across the room and around the end of the sofa. He found Winry curled up on the couch fast asleep, draped in his leather riding jacket. She had it snugged up under her chin, the delicate fingertips of her left hand peeking over the top and a peaceful smile on her lips. He knelt by her side, reaching out to tenderly brush a few strands of her golden hair from her face as he watched her.

The firelight danced its warm glow over her radiant skin as her shoulder rose and fell with the rhythm of her soft, steady breaths. He smiled as he watched her, letting the knowledge that she was safe and sound wash over him and drown all the fear, loathing and violence of the day. He bowed and softly kissed her forehead, "I love you, Winry Rockbell..."

The unheard confession would have to suffice for the moment; one day soon, when Envy was gone for good, he would tell her the truth of his feelings. For now it was enough that she was safe. He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he settled himself onto the floor, his back against the front of the sofa, and rested his head into the plush leather. He shut his eyes and listened to the crackling of the fire and Winry's steady breathing as sleep overcame him and darkness closed in on his senses once again.


	12. Chapter 12

Through the haze of his blissful sleep her searching fingers penetrated. They wandered, cautious yet unrelenting, as they tenderly drew him back from that dark bourn where dreams reign. He felt her soft touch trace across his collarbone before her delicate grip came to rest over the opposite shoulder. Her left arm joined the right in its morning exploration, choosing instead to slide down over his firm abdomen before snugging itself around his chest.

As Wrath blinked in the warm, inviting glow that spilled luxuriantly through the windows, he realized that Winry had snaked her arms around his neck and nestled her head against his as she lay on the couch behind him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he sleepily reached back, his fingertips entwining in her hair, coming to rest at the back of her neck. His head lolled back and rested on the cushion of her bicep. His smile broadened as she gave a gentle squeeze, holding him close enough that her scent flooded his nostrils.

"I was worried..." she whispered, her voice faintly hoarse after a long, deep sleep, "but you always come back to me, don't you?"

"Where else would I go?" he said in reply, his voice quiet and gentle in the morning stillness.

"You could go anywhere you want and do anything you want, but you stay with me...it's enough to make a girl feel special."

"You are," he said, letting his eyes slip closed as he was overtaken by the joy of her presence, "I've never met anyone like you..."

She smiled and chuckled a bit, a melodious sound that sent a shiver of pleasure through him, "Flatterer..." She stroked her palm over his chest for a moment, absently fingering his top shirt button before adding, "Mustang called last night...he told me what happened on the mission. He said you took a shotgun blast for Andy Pershing and saved his life..."

Wrath grinned, "Just buckshot to the chest...nothing to worry about."

She fell silent for a long moment, though her firm embrace didn't slacken. At length, she asked, "Wrath...can I ask you something? Are you... are you really invulnerable...? I mean, can you just keep shrugging off bullets, no matter what?"

"You saw me get shot in the face and survive...what kind of question is that?"

"Yeah, _I know_, but I mean...can you just keep coming back to life forever...? How many times can that happen before...before you don't come back?"

Wrath sighed and looked at the ceiling, his natural hand gently stroking Winry's bare arm, "I don't know for sure...Lust told me that homunculi can only regenerate from fatal wounds as long as they still have red stones-I guess every death erodes more of the stones-but I don't think it's anything to worry about. I ate a handful of stones when I fought Gluttony, and Envy fed me a lot of them when...when he _changed me_..." His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes, preferring to simply drink in Winry's presence instead of dredging up painful memories.

He felt her delicate fingers squeeze and tug at his button for a moment before slackening again, "It's almost worse, you know..."

He knitted his brow in confusion, "You...would have preferred if I actually died?"

She shook her head, snugging him a bit closer, "_No!_ No of course not! I just mean that you're so _reckless_...you can survive just about anything, so you just throw yourself into danger to protect everyone else, never thinking of yourself, knowing you'll just heal instantly...until one day you don't. At least if you were human, you'd spare a thought for yourself once in a while instead of diving headlong into certain death at every turn..."

"Yeah," Wrath said, drawing his knees up and resting his forearms against them, his flesh and steel fingers intertwining, "..._if I was human_..." He fell silent, musing over a myriad of thoughts conjured by her words, watching as the morning sunlight began to glint on the polished surface of his automail hand.

Questions without answers swam through his mind like furtive, darting minnows in a shaded pond, vanishing into darkness as soon as he would try to snatch one into the light. Once, he had declared it a simple fact that he was merely a soulless monster spawned by a fool's hubris, yet never had that certainty seemed so decrepit and hollow as in the light of Winry's presence. If he was nothing but the embodiment of Izumi's sin, only a flesh and blood machine acting out its infernal design, then what could possibly explain the fervent love that welled inside him at that very moment? And yet, if he could love her, if he could change _so much_ under her mysterious power, then what intangible thing still separated him from true humanity?

"Would you quit that!" Winry interjected peevishly, pressing her hand against the side of his head and giving a gentle shove. He half toppled over, then turned and shot an irritated glance at her. She continued undaunted, "You don't need to get all gloomy and silent on me! I just care about you, okay? I want you to be more careful with yourself!"

Wrath scowled at her in annoyance for a moment before a broad, contented smile broke over his features like a wave on the shore and he chuckled softly to himself. He pushed himself up to his feet and stretched, reaching his arms high above his head. Clasping his left elbow with his right hand, he tugged his shoulder a little further, leaning his neck over to achieve the full benefit. He felt rejuvenated and serene; awakening in her arms had a profound effect on his disposition, it seemed. The faint blush and guilty smile of enjoyment that washed over Winry's exquisite features as she watched weren't lost on him either.

His warm, inviting smile never faded as he extended his mechanical hand. She placed her sublime fingers into it and he guided her to stand. Her shapely legs slid with untaught grace to press her bare feet onto the cool, ruddy oaken floorboards. Rising drew her intimately close, their fingers unconsciously interlacing as their hands dropped, further diminishing the distance between them. As they stood face to face, lips hovering in dangerous proximity, they dared to examine one another's gaze at length.

Poised lips, lingering just inches apart, awaited the spark. He drew a deep, slow breath, lids drooping as he bowed, tilting his head as the remaining distance between them was consumed. She in turn tilted her shapely jaw up to invite his lips caress, her eyes slipping closed in anticipation of their supple touch.

_GYAH, what the hell!? Don't shoot!_

Wrath faltered, his brow creasing in annoyance and confusion at the sudden outburst coming from somewhere outside. Winry opened her eyes slightly, one eyebrow rising in surprise as her lips unpursed. Wrath pressed forward again, determined to taste success...

_GET ON THE GROUND NOW! DROP THE PACKAGE! - Wait what if it's a bomb?! - DON'T DROP IT BUT GET DOWN!_

Wrath lurched to a halt, still painfully distant from uniting with her in the passionate kiss he had so long desired. His dark eyes opened and he found her staring back with a pensive look.

"We...really need to check on that..." she said with an air of defeat, casting her glance to the door of the study as a faint blush coloured her cheeks.

"Yes...yes of course..._check on that_..." Wrath said with a hiss, his head dropping in dejection as he stomped toward the door with Winry a step behind.

Moments later, Wrath slammed open the front door of the shop to find the two sentries holding a courier at gunpoint and both shouting incoherently at him. The poor young man, a dusky blonde who looked to be not more than seventeen or eighteen, was prone in the street holding a brown cardboard box over his head and looking paralyzed with terror.

Wrath gnarled his automail fingers into a vicious claw, his hand faintly shaking as fury threatened to overtake his mind.

Suddenly he felt a jab in his ribs; he shot a withering glance at Winry, but his fury was instantly drowned in pools of blue. There was a playfully scolding peak of an eyebrow, and supple lips curled into a knowing smirk. He would have to keep himself together.

He drew his lips into a taut line as his fists clenched. He glanced from one to the other of the sentries. "_SHUT UP!_" he barked.

Both soldiers stopped yelling immediately. The taller one nodded to the other, who nodded back in return, before turning to face Wrath and saluting, "Sir! We caught this infiltrator trying to sneak this package into the building, sir!"

Wrath glared at the tall, gray eyed soldier with a withering look. He rubbed his temple, shutting his eyes for a moment in an attempt to quell his overmastering anger. He sighed sharply as he realized that this outlandish zeal was partially his doing, spawned by him raking them over the coals the night before. At length he opened his eyes again, "What's your name, soldier?"

"Griffith, sir! Private first class!"

Wrath shot a glance at the shorter, dark haired soldier who still had his pistol trained on the hapless courier's head, "And you?"

"Private Morgan, sir!" the young man answered without moving a muscle.

"Alright you two," Wrath said, striding between them toward the prostrate figure in the road, "Good work. Just cover him; I've got this."

Without another word, the homunculus stooped and grabbed a fist full of the courier's shirt front with his left hand and hoisted him onto his feet in one quick motion. The young man stared in wide eyed astonishment. Wrath took the package, then fished a wad of bills from his pocket and thrust them into the courier's trembling hands.

"Listen," Wrath began, careful to moderate his tone, "You're not hurt, are you?"

The dusky blonde courier slowly shook his head from side to side, his wide eyes unblinking.

"Good," Wrath continued, the package balanced in his left hand as his steel right hand clapped over the young man's shoulder, "So, let's say you go buy yourself something nice with that cash I just gave you, maybe ask a cute girl out to dinner, and we'll all just forget this whole silly thing happened, hmm?"

Morgan and Griffith glanced at one another. The courier glanced at them, then back at Wrath. He looked at the bundle of money in his hands and the horrified expression on his face softened with the hint of a smile. He nodded, then turned and dashed away as fast as his legs would carry him as Wrath turned back toward the building.

"How did you know it wasn't Envy, sir?" Griffith asked, holstering his weapon.

"He was way too light to be Envy. Besides which, I was expecting a package today."

"Well, shouldn't you have menti..."

"_Good work, men!_ As you were," Wrath interjected, not letting Morgan finish his question.

"Sir!" they replied in unison, snapping to attention and saluting.

"And for pity's sake _quit saluting me!_" he snapped, stalking past them and through the gaping door.

Winry's melodious giggle was the last thing they heard before the door slammed shut.

Inside, Wrath set the box on the kitchen table and pulled up a chair. Winry, a wry smile curling her lips, sidled up behind him and peered over his shoulder. "Got a secret admirer, do you? Who's sending you gifts, I wonder?"

Wrath smirked at her, glancing back over his shoulder as he pulled out his pocket knife and flicked open the blade. "Actually, the package is for you and it's _your_ secret admirer..." he said, slicing off an envelope that was taped to the top of the box. With another flick of his blade he slit the envelope open and held it up over his shoulder without another word.

Winry plucked the letter from his hand and unfurled it as Wrath set to work slicing open the box itself. She eagerly read the letter aloud:

My dear Miss Winry Rockbell,

No doubt you will find this letter unexpected and its contents rather outre,

but I assure you I am entirely in earnest. I encountered your friend and

client, the young man with dark hair and eyes, who is blessed with two

of your masterfully constructed automail limbs. I recognized immediately

the work of a true genius! In all my time fruitlessly searching Rush Valley,

indeed this entire country, I have never before encountered such magnificent

automail. I knew at once that you are the only engineer in this forsaken town

who can possibly help me now.

I recognize that a young businesswoman such as yourself is no doubt

exceptionally busy, and I would not dream of imposing on your time

were it not absolutely necessary that I consult with you in person.

In order to demonstrate my eagerness to become your client,

indeed your benefactor, I enclose a token of my admiration and my

most sincere gratitude for your consideration. In the box you will find

two copies of my calling card. You and your young gentleman friend

will take one to Sigil Row at Fleet Street, and the second, when you are

ready, to The Outlook Bistro. The proprietors will take these from you

and will in return see to your every need. Please understand, money is

absolutely no object. As for the rest, well, consider these little trinkets

to be the outpouring of my hopeful heart spurred on by my respect

for your skill.

In return, I ask only that you join me as my guest for supper this

evening at my home. I trust I am not being presumptuous in telling

you to expect my car and driver to await you at seven thirty this

evening at the door of your shop. Until we meet, I remain, my dear

young lady,

Very faithfully yours,

_Elisei Portinari_

Winry's eyes widened in astonishment as she finished reading the letter. She glanced at Wrath, who was staring back with an equally bewildered look. "The Outlook Bistro! That's _the_ swankiest restaurant in town! You need to be loaded just to get a _sniff_ of that place," she said breathlessly, "And _Sigil Row?! _I...I don't know if I own clothes nice enough to even walk through the door of that place, never mind _buying_ my clothes from there. Who is this lady?!"

Wrath shook his head, running his fingers through his hair as he mulled over the incredible letter in his mind, "I have no idea...I met her yesterday at Edge Park...it looked like Envy was about to attack her or take her hostage, but Paninya shot him before he could make a move and he got away down the cliff face. Anyway, my coat sleeve was torn when Envy attacked, and when she saw my arm, she said she had to meet the genius who built it."

Winry blushed and smiled at this remark, which caused Wrath to smile unconsciously in response as he continued, "She wore a porcelain mask, like a doll's face almost, and her whole body was covered in robes and bandages. She said she has a rare disease and that somehow your automail can help her."

"_Our_ automail," Winry corrected him with a gentle smile. She glanced over the letter again, her mind racing; what could this woman possibly want with their automail? Why them and nobody else in a city teeming with engineers? Could their work really be _that good_? She glanced back at Wrath, then moved to his side, tossing the letter onto the kitchen table. "What's in the box?" she asked eagerly.

They traded looks for a moment, each one hesitating to lift the flaps of the box to peer inside. At length, Winry nodded to Wrath, preferring to stand by and watch him open it. If the contents of the letter were unusual, the contents of the box were even stranger: Wrath reached in and withdrew each item one at a time, setting them on the table in front of him: there was a large bottle of champagne, _Dom Carcassone_, dated 1862; the aforementioned calling cards tied up neatly in a red ribbon; and two small rectangular leather pouches fastened with metal clasps.

Winry and Wrath stood side by side, gazing at the strange collection of objects on their table. Winry lifted the bottle and examined the label carefully, "_Dom Carcassone_...now I'm no expert, but isn't this stuff supposed to be super rare and expensive?"

"W..Winry!" Wrath stammered, holding one of the pouches in his hands and staring at it in amazement, "Y...you won't believe this!"

She carefully set the bottle down and peered over his shoulder. Her eyes widened; the little pouch contained a stack of bills. Wrath fanned the wad of cash slowly with his thumb; at a glance, it looked like there could be almost two hundred thousand Cenz inside.

Winry scrambled for the other pouch, scooping it from the table and unfastening it; it contained an identical stack of bank notes. Winry slumped into the nearest chair, running her fingers through her hair as she stared at the money, "Wow...this is incredible! She's really serious about this, huh?"

Wrath glanced at her, giving a faint nod of his head. "So what now...?" he asked.

She stared back at him for a moment, her face blank at first. Slowly, a wry, devilish smile curled her supple lips, "Well, obviously she wants us to enjoy ourselves, and I think we've more than earned it, wouldn't you say?"

Wrath drew his lips back into a roguish, shark toothed grin, "Damn right we have!"

She jumped from her chair, clasping his hand in hers. With the other she scooped the cards and the bottle of Champagne from the table; her bare feet padded in furtive whispers as she led him upstairs.

The passage of a half hour found them sneaking out the back alley from the shop, Wrath having orchestrated their escape by clambering down the outer wall from his study window. He alighted in the alley with all the dexterity of a spider monkey, Winry clinging to his back. A breathless, giddy dash and a few quick turns found them strolling down the avenue that ran behind the block, working their way around toward Fleet Street in the commercial district where Sigil Row was situated. Although the air was still crisp with winter chill, the sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky, casting the city in shimmering diamonds of sunlight.

Winry couldn't suppress her laughter any longer. She giggled and squeezed Wrath's hand as she strolled along at his side. "Do you think they'll still be standing there guarding the door when we get back? They won't know what to think when we come sauntering up!"

Wrath smirked faintly before his face resumed a grim expression, "Are you sure this is really a good idea? It's risky being out here with Envy still on the loose."

She shook her head, casting him a sidelong glance along with a wry, alluring smile that sent a shiver of delight through him, "It's no less safe than being a couple of sitting ducks at the shop! Besides, there's nowhere in the world safer for me than by your side." She punctuated her comment with an affectionate squeeze of his arm.

He liked that just fine.

Together they strolled out into the main thoroughfare, rounding the corner into Fleet Street after a brisk twenty minute walk. The ritzy part of town was unfamiliar to them; they had never had cause to venture there before. Expensive automobiles lined the streets and well heeled ladies and gentlemen of the Rush Valley big business set bustled about. It was a strange juxtaposition to the rougher crowds that tended to frequent the dusty, vibrant, noisy automail district. If all the best hardware could be found in their borough, this was where the profits of the bigger houses accumulated. Strolling by all the ladies with fancy dresses and fancier hair and makeup made Winry feel a little self conscious in her simple belted overcoat, pants suit and open collared white blouse. She shrank against Wrath's side unconsciously as they stopped in front of the imposing edifice of Sigil Row.

He stared up at it for a moment before he seemed to notice she had edged closer. With a conspiratorial grin, he grasped her hand and boldly led her through the large gilded doors.

They stepped into the center of an opulent showroom bisected by a plush red carpet and dominated by a large sales counter in the very center of the floor. The right side of the store was devoted to men's clothing with suits of every description and pattern lined up along with shoes, hats, ties and other accessories. The left was a dazzling array of fabrics, patterns and colours, designs and shapes, all devoted to the utmost in female elegance.

They stood speechless some minutes before a tall, slender salesman in a black cutaway coat and striped gray trousers took notice of them and strode to where they were standing. He wore a red carnation in his lapel and had an impeccable red silk necktie knotted around a heavily starched high-stand collar. He seemed to be about fifty, with salt and pepper hair. He looked them over, putting on the disingenuous but plausible smile of the practiced salesman, "May I help you?"

His tone betrayed the subtle snub, the intimation that they obviously were _not of the type_ to be shopping at Sigil Row. Wrath briefly considered punching him out before he forced a suave smile and produced Portinari's calling card, holding it just slightly too close under the salesman's hawkish nose.

"A friend sent us. She told us to show you this."

The man's eyes widened as they scanned across the printed letters. His entire manner changed and he wrung his hands in eagerness as he spoke in excited tones, "Oh my! Miss Portinari told us you were coming! Oh my yes, step right this way please!"

He clapped his hands twice and immediately three female and three male assistants appeared as if from nowhere. The females ushered Winry off to their side, while the males whisked Wrath into the dressing rooms of the men's department. The head clerk briskly strode to the front door and locked it, much to Wrath and Winry's surprise.

Winry shyly stepped out from behind the curtain and looked herself over; she wore a fitted wine coloured satin dress that caressed her figure in all the right ways without being clingy, its skirt reaching just below the knee. It was long sleeved, somewhat billowy over the upper arms but fitted at the elbow and ending with delicate points over the backs of her hands. The back was cut in a deep 'V' that ended just below the line of her shoulder blades.

Her long, flowing hair was pinned up with a diamond brooch, accented with a couple of gold hairpins. Not missing a single detail, the sales ladies had kindly provided ruby lipstick and even nail polish to match. They had topped off the entire ensemble with a white, black flecked mink coat, a black satin handbag and black leather calf height boots with just a bit of heel. She grinned when she saw herself; the effect was striking to say the least; she hoped Wrath would agree. Eagerly she turned to look across the shop floor to the opposite curtain, waiting for Wrath's appearance.

Before long, Wrath emerged from the dimness of the dressing rooms transformed by the skillful artistry of the clothier's hands. Winry gasped and grinned in delight at the sight of him; he was dressed in an elegant dark navy pinstriped three piece suit, the garment perfectly cut to accentuate his masculine physique. His crimson and blue striped tie stood out against the crisp whiteness of his point collared shirt. At his cuffs, a half inch band of white linen was punctuated by a pair of elegant gold cufflinks with square cut rubies. A pair of highly polished black and white spectators finished the ensemble.

His long, normally wild and unruly hair was thoroughly brushed and tied back into a long, elegant braid, leaving his bangs framing his face. Thus tamed, his hair took on a rich, silky black shine that she had never noticed before. He seemed self conscious as he stepped from behind the velvet curtain, tugging at one of his cuffs with white gloved fingers, his gaze averted, though he stole a glance at her with slit-pupiled midnight eyes that sent a thrill up her spine. He was incredibly dashing.

She stepped toward him, inviting him with a warm smile of appreciation. He hesitated a moment, fidgeting with his tie. As she took another step, she noticed the salesman place a hand on Wrath's shoulder and whisper something into his ear with a smile. This seemed to bolster him somehow, and he stepped forward and met her midway, taking her hand in his.

"You look..._incredible!_" he breathed, his thumb stroking once over the back of her hand, a gesture that wasn't at all lost on her.

"Well you definitely clean up very nicely, Mister Curtis..." she said playfully, "Shall we do lunch?"

"Yes," he said, his lips curling into a wry smile, "Let's do that."


	13. Chapter 13

The Outlook Bistro was aptly named; an elegant, upper crust establishment situated at the edge of a rocky outcropping that rose high above the canyon at the edge of town. It's commanding height provided a breathtaking view of most of Rush Valley, as well as a huge expanse of the arid, rocky terrain surrounding it. The warmth of the late winter sunshine was slowly melting the thin, crusty layer of snow left by winter's passing chill, causing a veil of mist to spread over the valley. Soon spring would flood the canyon and surrounding areas with a blanket of wild flowers. Given the snow covering the area, greenery and wild flowers might just flourish anywhere the snow had touched, fed by the melt water. Even with only unbroken snow glistening in the sunlight, the view was spectacular.

Lunch passed in lighthearted conversation. They deftly avoided any mention of the shadow hanging over them, choosing instead to speak of their considerable business success and the tantalizing prospects presented by their mysterious benefactor. They lingered until the sun began to droop toward the dusty western plains, casting long shadows in the warm glow of the waning afternoon. They had polished off the champagne bottle before they finally headed out, turning toward home down a tree lined thoroughfare bathed in golden light.

In that moment, awash in the fading warmth of late winter sun, warmed and unburdened by the low, heady buzz of just enough champagne, Wrath boldly slipped his hand into Winry's, their fingers entwining. He felt a warm tingle crawl up his spine as she faintly squeezed his hand in silent reply. For a long while they walked that way, not speaking, nor even glancing at one another; nothing needed to be said. It was enough simply to be together. They strolled wordlessly, hand in hand, all the way back through town to the front of the shop.

Griffith and Morgan greeted them with drooping jaws and dumbfounded stares when they came sauntering up the street. Without a word, they strolled past them and into the shop, leaving the two bewildered sentries at their posts.

They changed into their work clothes, carefully setting aside their finery in preparation for the evening, and set down to work on various ongoing projects. The atmosphere inside the shop was considerably lightened by their morning's adventure, and Wrath was pleased to see Winry smiling and laughing for the first time since Envy's reappearance. For his part, he managed to push thoughts of Envy aside for the time being and tell himself that the day would come to face that horror, but this day belonged to Winry alone.

Hours slipped by before Wrath happened to glance at his pocket watch. He and Winry had retired to the kitchenette for a cup of coffee after a hard day's work and he was just sitting back in his chair and taking a sip when he clicked open his watch case and realized it was twenty minutes past six. He took a swig and set the cup down, "We'd better get a move on – the car will be here in an hour."

Winry glanced up at him over the rim of her mug, stopping mid sip, "Oh, right! I was so wrapped up in working on those elbow joints, I nearly forgot! You remembered to close the shop at five, right?"

Wrath nodded in reply.

"Good. Let me go shower and change out of these coveralls and then you can get cleaned up," Winry said, hastily taking another sip before setting her mug in the sink.

"You go ahead and take your time; I'm having my mandated coffee break, boss," Wrath said, flashing a wry, shark toothed smile.

Winry punched him playfully in the arm on her way past, eliciting a bemused chuckle.

The car arrived punctually at seven thirty, as the letter had said. Wrath and Winry, once again decked out in their dress clothes, smiled and waved to Morgan and Griffith, saying they'd be home late but not waiting to listen to the sentries flustered protests.

Wrath laughed as the car sped away down the road, turning onto the main street running through Rush Valley, "We're really giving those two a run for their money today, huh?"

Winry laughed too, sliding her arm into Wrath's, "Yeah, I feel a little bad, but it is pretty funny seeing the looks on their faces...I'm sure Mustang is going to chew us both out when he gets their reports."

"Feh," Wrath snorted, "Mustang can stuff it...you deserve to have a day to yourself without having to worry about that blowhard hassling you for it."

"So do you, partner! Don't forget that."

The car turned and began to climb into the foothills of the cliffs surrounding the valley. Many of the residences of the well-to-do business set they had encountered that morning were situated on these bluffs overlooking the canyon. The car turned onto a side road and climbed again, and slowly they crested the hill to see an impressive mansion rising to meet them at the end of the drive.

It was situated in grounds surrounded by a wrought iron fence with a huge gate that swung open as the car approached. In contrast to the normally arid environment around it, the lawn of the house was lush and green, with several fruit trees scattered around its expanse. As Winry caught sight of it through the windshield, her eyes widened and she hurriedly rolled down the window and stuck her head out.

"Can you believe this place?! It's incredible!" she said, still hanging out the window.

The car came to a halt in the carriage drive that looped in front of the house and the chauffeur stepped out to open the door for Winry, who obliged by popping back in. She and Wrath stepped out and looked over the house in silent awe. It rose three stories with gabled windows at the top level, its walls constructed of light gray granite. The front was rectangular with a pillared portico reaching out over the double front doors. A black wrought iron pendant light was suspended from the center, casting an inviting glow. The remainder of the house appeared dark save for a faint, flickering, reddish light that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep inside.

"Step this way please," the driver said, motioning toward the portico, "Ring the bell and the butler will let you in."

Wrath nodded to the driver and held out the crook of his arm for Winry. She slid her gloved hand through it and they walked together up the steps under the pendant lamp, ringing the bell as they reached the top. The driver disappeared around the side of the house, no doubt to park the car in a garage or coach house on the grounds.

The sonorous doorbell sounded from deep within the immense house, echoing through the cavernous rooms as it returned to their ears. There was a long delay, but faintly they began to hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the inside. The steps halted behind the door and it was abruptly swung open to reveal a tall, strikingly slender, middle aged man with short cropped reddish brown hair with long sideburns. His face was exceptionally gaunt, with chiseled features, deep set icy blue eyes and a hawkish nose. He wore an immaculate black peaked lapel tailcoat, black waistcoat and trousers, and a crisp, brilliant white linen shirt with a high stand collar and the typical black bow tie that marked him as the aforementioned butler. He looked down on them and his initially imposing appearance was softened by a warm, genuine, if subdued smile, "Mister Curtis and Miss Rockbell; my mistress is expecting you. Please come in! She will be along very shortly."

They were ushered into a foyer whose decoration was sumptuous yet tasteful, and were about to be led to an adjoining sitting room when the faint sound of rubber tires on the marble floor announced the arrival of their host.

As they watched, Elisei Portinari emerged from a dimly lit corridor under the grand, sweeping twin curved staircases leading to the second level. She wheeled up to them and stopped.

"My, you both look wonderful! My friends at Sigil Row have outdone themselves this time!" she said. She turned and regarded Winry silently for a brief moment before she held out her hands to the young engineer. "My dear young lady," she said in her raspy, disease ravaged voice, "You do me a very great honor and a great service by coming...oh, please, don't be alarmed by my appearance my dear, my condition is not at all contagious."

Winry, who had hesitated when confronted with Elisei's very striking and unsettling appearance, blushed and held out her hand. Elisei took it in both of her silken-gloved hands and shook it warmly. She carried with her the scent of rosewater and fresh linen, and Winry found herself simultaneously fascinated and unsettled by the serene, immutable expression of her porcelain mask. Her entire body was wreathed in a combination of robes and bandages so that not an inch of her skin was visible anywhere, and although she apparently possessed enough strength to propel herself in the wheel chair without undue effort, her hands and fingers were skeletally thin as they wrapped around Winry's.

"No doubt by this time you are rather bewildered by all this, but I pray you will bear with me a little longer and everything will become clear. Dinner will be ready very shortly, if you would please follow me," Elisei said. She turned and began to wheel her chair toward a door which stood to one side of the foyer and opened to a corridor beyond. At the end of the corridor they came to another open door. She entered and they followed, finding themselves in a cozy sitting room lit by gas lamps and a roaring fire in a great stone hearth flanked by mullioned windows that reached almost to the ceiling.

Elisei wheeled herself in front of the fire. Beside her stood an antique side table covered in framed photographs. She turned to face Winry and Wrath, her back to the fire. "Ahh, much better...I do get intolerably cold at times...well, I think it is only fair to tell you a little about myself...these you see here," she said, motioning to the photographs, "Are all that remain to me of my former life...my life before I became afflicted with this horrid disease.

"Being so young, you two may not be familiar with the Portinari family name, but I come from a family of wealth and privilege. As a young woman, I became heir to a vast fortune, and because of the idealism of my dear departed father, I resolved to use my family's enormous wealth to make life better for those who were not as fortunate as I.

"I took a particular interest in the Ishballan situation and supported humanitarian work during the war. This led me to earn the ire of some in the former government, but there were just as many in the military who understood what I was trying to accomplish and became my dear friends. I am very happy to say that my efforts were instrumental in arranging and funding the repatriation and aid of Ishballan refugees after the fall of Bradley's regime. I was involved in numerous other humanitarian projects during this time, one of which took me far into the territory of Xing, which is where I contracted this hideous disease which you see has ravaged my body."

Winry and Wrath examined the photographs on the table; they showed a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and striking blue eyes, looking vibrant and full of life. Most showed her dressed in rough travel clothing, posing in some exotic, impoverished locale, surrounded by locals, many of them children. There was only one photograph, sullen and sombre among the others, which showed her in her current enshrouded state, staring out of the frame through the black slits of her stoic mask. Winry glanced back to the image of young Elisei, thinking how much she reminded her of her own mother.

"My mother and father were also involved in the war...they were surgeons who ran a clinic to treat the wounded on both sides. They...were killed," Winry said quietly, glancing over to Elisei.

The mask was immutable, but the voice behind it cracked with mortification, "Oh goodness! How foolish and insensitive of me! I thought your name seemed familiar, but it's only now that I realize why – your parents were of course the poor Rockbells who were killed in Ishbal. Positively deplorable; I am so sorry, my dear..."

Winry shook her head and Wrath gently laid his hand over her shoulder. "It's okay," she said, smiling and wiping her eye, "It's quite a coincidence that you were involved in humanitarian work during the war too. Did you know them?"

Elisei shook her head, "I didn't have the pleasure of knowing them personally, but I was an ardent admirer of their work. I was terribly grieved when I heard about their fate. But please, I don't wish to pain you with all this talk of the past...there is something rather more hopeful and exciting which we must discuss!"

Elisei turned away from the photos and wheeled herself toward another door standing partially open at the far side of the room. "Be a dear and get that, could you please, Mister Curtis?" she said, stopping near it to wait. Wrath obliged and pushed it open. He and Winry followed Elisei inside.

They found themselves in a large, elaborately decorated dining hall with a long rectangular dining table of rich cherry wood. The table was set at one end for four, with the place at the head of the table left without a seat, presumably to accommodate Elisei's wheelchair. As they entered, Wrath and Winry were startled to find that they were not alone; near the end of the table, standing at a bay window and smoking a cigar, was a man of moderate height and build dressed in a finely cut suit of navy blue serge.

He turned to face them as they entered; he was a young man, perhaps thirty, with wavy, slightly unkempt chestnut hair swept back from his face and cropped well before his shoulders. He had well defined, handsome features and striking gray eyes framed behind a pair of rectangular wire-rimmed spectacles wrought in silver. He stood about the same height as Wrath, and as he crushed out his cigar and approached with a broad smile and open arms, they could see his eyes bore an earnest, gentle expression. "My dear friends!" he said, his voice betraying a marked Drachman accent, "So pleased to be meeting you at last! Miss Portinari has told me so much about your magnificent work." His voice was rather deeper than they had expected given his height and build.

He held out his hand in greeting, but when Wrath shook it, a look of surprise washed over the stranger's face and he grasped Wrath's forearm with his other hand, giving a slight squeeze, "Forgive me, but this is the famous arm which Miss Portinari tells me about, yes? You will please show me?"

Wrath was taken aback; he furrowed his brow in annoyance, "And you are...?"

Elisei broke in, "Ah, of course, introductions! This is Doctor Alexei Kagrevin, of Drachma...he is visiting us...or perhaps I should be frank and say he has defected from Drachma, and is now taking refuge in Amestris."

Wrath blinked at the young doctor, looking as if he was deciding whether or not to slug him in the face. Winry thrust herself between them and held out her hand, "Doctor Kagrevin, it's a pleasure to meet you! This is my business partner, Wrath Curtis, and I'm Winry Rockbell, the engineer who built Wrath's arm. "

Alexei heartily shook Winry's hand, smiling broadly at her from beneath his wire rimmed spectacles as he broke out into a deep, hearty laugh, "So you are both proprietor and customer at once, Mister Curtis! Please, I must see it! Miss Portinari tells me it is absolutely unmatched in all of Rush Valley."

Wrath smiled a little as he saw Winry's ears flush at the admiration, and so obligingly unbuttoned his right jacket and shirt cuffs, rolling them back as far as he could to expose the shiny exterior shell of his automail arm. He clenched and unclenched his hand a couple of times, then curled each finger and his thumb in turn, showing the absolutely flawless motion of the intricate machine.

Kagrevin watched with marked interest, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he leaned in for a closer view. He nodded approvingly to himself, muttering something in Drachman that they couldn't understand. He drew himself fully erect again and thrust his hands into his pockets, half turning to Elisei. "Remarkable!" he said.

"Please, won't everyone sit down?" Elisei said, motioning to the chairs. Kagrevin moved to the far side of the table, pulling out the lone chair and sitting down and unfurling his napkin with a flourish. He seemed in markedly good spirits.

Wrath pulled out Winry's chair for her, waiting for her to sit before taking his own seat. He glanced at Elisei, who was just wheeling in to place. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, Miss Portinari, but maybe you could explain why exactly you invited us here?"

"Of course...as I mentioned in my letter, you are the only hope left for me in this city...in this world. As I mentioned to you before, I am afflicted with a terrible and rare form of leprosy which is literally withering my body away slowly and painfully. In Xing, they call it The Creeping Death, and it is so rare that in many parts of that country it is considered a myth. I discovered, unfortunately, that it is terrifyingly real, however rare it may be...I am slowly being consumed, and if nothing is done, I will die. Believe me, I have searched for a cure with every means at my disposal, and have found none, until now. I believe I have discovered, with the help of young Doctor Kagrevin, a possible solution..."

Wrath perked a brow, "Solution...?"

Kagrevin piped up as the butler pushed in a cart with the dinner dishes on it and began serving up plates of steaming lobster, oysters and salad, "I should perhaps explain more, yes? I am a surgeon specializing in human mechanical interfaces for automail. Although I am not an engineer, I have made it my exclusive field of expertise to discover and perfect new and more profound methods of integrating automail into the human body..."

"What do you mean by 'more profound'?" Winry asked, taking a bite of her lobster. It practically melted in her mouth, smothered in delicious butter sauce.

Kagrevin adjusted his glasses and poked at his lobster absently, staring at the table as if he were intensely concentrating. "It seems to me that the greater the mass of the human body that can be replaced with automail, the more lives could be saved, do you not think? For example, I devised an interface which successfully replaced most of the spinal chord, the abdomen and both legs of a very unfortunate victim of the conflicts between Drachma and your country. But in Drachma they care only for war, and not for the saving of lives, which you understand is my passion. I could not bear to have my work stolen by those...How do you say it? Those mongers of war in the Drachman army. I had heard that many things have changed in Amestris since the Fuhrer was killed, that this is a peace loving country, and so I came here."

Wrath turned to Elisei. "So, what does all this have to do with us?" he asked, punctuating his question with a bite of succulent lobster.

"As it turns out, my disease only affects the skin, bones and muscles, leaving the internal organs unharmed, which is normally nonetheless fatal. Doctor Kagrevin believes that it may be possible to build a complete prosthetic automail body and transplant my internal organs into it, thereby saving my life. I want you to build that body for me," she said, folding her hands in her lap.

Winry stopped mid bite, her eyes wide and staring as a morsel of lobster slipped from her fork and landed back on her plate. "You...you can't be serious...that's impossible!" she gasped, nearly dropping her fork as well.

Kagrevin shook his head, setting down his fork and gesturing passionately, "How can you say this? There have already been automail surgeries where nearly half the patient's entire body mass has been replaced; can you not conceive that the remaining half might also be replaced? Is not merely that a clever enough mind has yet to attempt it?"

"It's not ethical!" Winry shot back, glancing from the placid porcelain mask to the flushed, animated face of the young doctor, "I couldn't possibly attempt something so reckless! I wouldn't even know where to begin!"

"You needn't do the surgery yourself, Miss Rockbell," Kagrevin said with a dismissive gesture, "You need only construct the body, I will perform the installation."

"Installation?" Winry said, her voice dropping, "We're talking about a human being's life, not replacing a broken leg piston!"

Elisei interjected with a hoarse cough, turning her blank gaze toward Winry, "Quite so, young lady...your scruples do you credit, but the human being you refer to also has a view of the matter."

Winry averted her gaze, pushing a chunk of oyster around the plate, "Yes, you're right...I'm sorry." She turned back to Elisei, "I don't mean to disregard your feelings, but what you're asking me...it's way beyond anything I could even attempt."

Elisei's shoulders heaved in a rattling sigh and she leaned back in her wheelchair, resting her hands on the arm rests and staring directly at Winry, "Miss Rockbell, Mister Curtis, I realize that my request is unusual, but please try to understand...perhaps there is an element of selfishness in it, but I am not ready to lie in my grave yet. I feel there is so much more good I can do in this world...so many more people I could help. I have no heirs, nobody to carry on my work. If I die, it is likely that my wealth would largely become the property of the government. Would you have me merely stay trapped in this house, in this body, rotting away until my agonizing death? You are the most talented and brilliant automail engineers I have ever seen...your work...it is like poetry in motion, a true work of art. If you cannot do this thing, then nobody can. Think of the possibilities! If you are successful, you could utterly transform the world of automail! Think not only of my life, but of all the lives you could save! If not for me, then do this for yourselves and for all those who will come after me whose lives could be saved because you had the courage to try what no one else has."

Wrath had been listening intently, his brows knitted in concentration, his mechanical hand braced against his chin, "And if we fail?"

"Then what have I lost?" Elisei replied, turning toward him.

Winry sighed deeply, crossing her arms as she wrestled with the dilemma.

"I think, Miss Portinari, that you should show them the specimen," Alexei said, glancing at his host.

Wrath frowned at him, "What specimen?"

Fifteen minutes later, the party had descended deep into the basement of the old house, Wrath and Alexei carrying Elisei's wispy form down the staircase in her wheelchair and Winry leading the way with a flashlight. They emerged from the staircase into a large vaulted chamber interspersed with pillars are regular intervals. In the center of the enormous room stood a large object, perhaps eight feet in height and five feet across, shrouded in a dingy canvas tarpaulin. A faint green glow spilled from beneath the shroud, spreading over the cobbled stone floor. A faint hum could be heard coming from the object beneath, and several cables ran from under the cover to the periphery of the room, where they were swallowed by inky shadow.

Alexei and Wrath set down Elisei's chair and she rolled up to the mysterious object, with Alexei taking his place by her side. They turned to Wrath and Winry who looked on with anticipation tinged with uneasiness.

"Before I reveal the specimen, I want to assure you that it was obtained in a completely legal manner. This gentleman willed his body to the state for scientific research. As the state has declined to do anything with it, I was able, through my many connections in the government, to acquire it. Doctor, if you would be so kind..."

Without a word, Alexei reached up and grabbed a handful of the canvas, and with a hard tug, pulled it off and tossed it aside on the floor.

The room was flooded with an eerie green glow, and Wrath and Winry's breath caught in their throats at what they saw:

The object was a large glass tank with a metal base and cap with a hatch built into it. It was filled with a strange, viscous looking green liquid which was illuminated by two large electric lights built into the steel base. Two thick steel cables descended from the lid of the tank, suspending a human corpse in the center of the liquid.

He was a young man, perhaps in his mid thirties, with a deathly pale complexion, sharply defined features, thin eyebrows, and brown hair slicked back over his head. He wore the blue uniform of the state military. At least he wore it over the right side of his body; the remaining half, although now missing the two mechanical limbs it once had, was an automail replacement, including half his face in which the eye had been replaced by a red lens. The corpse was so perfectly preserved that if not for the bullet exit wounds in the chest and the vacant, staring, steel gray right eye, the man could appear to merely be sleeping. Wrath staggered back, his eyes wide with realization. There was no mistaking that cruel, arrogant face; it was the late Colonel Frank Archer.

Winry's hand shot to her mouth and she staggered back. Wrath steadied her with an arm around her shoulder. She half turned from the grotesque display, but her gaze remained riveted. Wrath's face took on a grim, taut-lipped expression.

"This gentleman was..." Elisei began, gesturing to Archer's corpse.

"Colonel Frank Archer, state military...we know," Wrath interjected, cutting her short.

Elisei started in her chair, gripping the arm rests, "Oh dear! Oh goodness, you knew him? I'm so sorry...I hadn't even considered..."

Wrath shook his head, his arm still protectively wrapped around Winry's shoulder, "Don't be...he was a bastard. He deserved what he got."

Elisei fell silent. Winry, having recovered from her initial shock and horror, moved forward and stood in front of the glass tank, examining Archer's automail carefully. "This is incredible..." she breathed, her face a mixture of disgust and fascination, "I would never have believed a patient could survive being fitted with this much automail..."

"This is the uninspired product of mere workmen...it bears none of the hallmarks of elegance and genius that your work displays," Elisei said, reaching out to Winry. She took Winry's hand, giving a feeble squeeze, "If the state military could achieve this much, given their work as a starting point, there is no limit to what a master craftswoman like you can achieve. Money is no object, and you will be very handsomely paid for your work. Please...please at least try, if not for my sake, then for your own!"

Winry glanced down at Elisei's pleading, skeletal hand wrapped around hers. She glanced back to the tank and Wrath saw in her reflection that the resolution on her face was faltering.

"All right..." she said, "I'll consider it..."


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, Wrath was roused by Winry's footfalls outside his bedroom door. He heard them retreat down the hall in the direction of her office, ending with the sound of the door latching. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and found, to his surprise, that she had awakened an hour earlier than was the norm.

Having risen and dressed, he made his way down the hall past her office windows to find her clad in a black skirt and white blouse rather than her usual coveralls, and busily engaged in piling books from the shelves lining the back wall onto the surface of her large oak desk. She was spreading them out, flipping through them, and at times pausing to examine one or another with intense concentration. Her movements seemed to be animated by a kind of frenetic energy, and her eyes were hardened to a keen focus. She seemed to take no notice of him as he passed by and headed downstairs.

All morning he cast furtive glances in the direction of her office windows, observing her as she buzzed around. She alternated between shifting piles of books and schematics, pacing the floor, and staring blankly out the window across the rooftops with a faraway expression reflected in the panes. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he decided to concoct an excuse to go upstairs - in case she asked him about it - and headed up to see what in the world was going on.

He stopped at the landing and stared; she was sitting at her desk, her arms spread out, palms flat on the top. The surface was strewn with books, rolls of schematics, diagrams, scraps of note paper, automail parts and other material that spilled over the top and onto the floor, surrounding the desk in a small heap of engineering detritus. She wasn't so much looking at the door as through it; when he passed in front of her gaze outside the windows, she gave no indication of having seen him. He stood and observed her for a few moments; her azure eyes were glazed over with a blank expression. The effect was so alarming that he opened the door and stepped inside.

"Okay, what's going on with you?" he asked half way through the door, his hand still wrapped around the knob.

"How do you think they rigged up his brain? Did you notice? Half his head was gone..." she replied, continuing to stare and ignoring Wrath's question. "You have to admit...you're curious how they managed that..."

Wrath furrowed his brow, shutting the door behind him quietly and watching her for a few moments, "Winry...what is all this stuff?"

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. It was like she was seeing automail structures and interfaces in her mind's eye. Her brows twitched, her fingers tapping almost imperceptibly on the desktop.

"Okay, seriously, stop that – you're freaking me out...Winry!..._WINRY!_"

"What...?" she said, blinking and shaking her head faintly, snapping out of her trance, "What? Did you say something? Sorry, I was just thinking..."

"No kidding you were thinking...like _scary mechanical genius thinking_...quit it!" Wrath said with a half smirk.

Winry blushed, chuckling faintly, "Sorry...I've been thinking all morning about Elisei's offer...well, to be honest, I don't think I slept much. At first I thought it was pure craziness, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought about what they managed with Archer, and the more I keep thinking, maybe we can pull it off..."

Wrath shrugged, crossing his arms and shooting her a wry, self-assured smile, "I know this much; if there's anyone who can, it's definitely you. She had that part right, at least!"

Winry giggled and smiled at him, which sent a shiver of pleasure through him that he hoped she didn't notice. She leaned back in her chair, pointing a finger at him, "Not without you, I can't...are you in?"

"You're the boss," he said, nodding back at her.

She shook her head, "We're partners, remember? This is as much your business as mine. If you're not okay with it, I won't do it."

He smiled back, though he said nothing for a moment. He tried his best not to show it, but her acceptance of him moved him to the core. Despite knowing what he was, what he had done, she treated him as human, as a _person_; she was never patronizing, never pitied him, but simply accepted him for who he was. That alone was enough, but that and a thousand other things made him love her more deeply than he could ever say. He would have done anything to see her smile, to aid her, to bring her success and happiness, to protect her. To protect her – that thought made him pause, and he turned to the window, "I hope you don't think I'm too paranoid, but I put in a call to Mustang last night to check on this Kagrevin guy..."

"I figured you would have..."

He shot her a surprised glance and she smirked back at him. "I ought to know how you think by now, wouldn't you say?" she said.

"Heh..." he said, turning his gaze back to the window with a faint smile, "Yeah, I guess so..."

"What do you think of him?" she pressed, watching him carefully.

"He seems all right," Wrath replied, "He seems passionate about his work."

"Meaning?" she said, not missing a beat.

He glanced at her; she was incisive in her understanding – she innately understood everything that the passionate pursuit of knowledge could mean in his mind. Was he not himself the product of passion turned to forbidden ends? He watched her for a silent moment, considering his answer before turning his gaze back to the window.

"I think his heart is in the right place...I just want to be sure his story checks out before we throw in our lot with him. There's also the problem of Envy to consider..."

"He isn't your burden to bear, Wrath...let Mustang take care of him. If anything, it's his responsibility. I think he would agree with me."

"It isn't that simple, Winry...how can I pretend I'm not responsible for setting Envy free?"

"Wrath, I told you before, it isn't your fault, okay? You were protecting yourself, that's all," she said, sighing and running her fingers through the shock of hair over her forehead, "Listen, Mustang's job is to take care of enemies of the country, like Envy. He's a professional soldier; you are an automailer. Let him do his job, and you stick to yours." She entreated him with her deep blue eyes; it was almost more than he could bear.

"_He_ won't see it that way...he won't rest until...until he kills us both," he protested, turning a mournful gaze on her.

"Then all the more important that you're here to protect me, right?" she retorted with a smirk.

Oh she definitely knew what buttons to push with him...irksome. He set his jaw; of course she was right. "Yeah...I'll never let that bastard lay a hand on you," he said, his fists clenching.

"I know," she said in a frank tone, a smile curling her lips. "So, it's decided then?" she added, "As long as Mustang's enquiries come out all right, we're going ahead with this?"

He turned to her and nodded solemnly.

They didn't have to wait long; before the sun had set that day, Mustang's call came. "He checks out...claimed asylum in Amestris a couple of years back," Mustang said with a yawn, "Info's scarce on him, but that's not a big surprise...what needs to be there is there. Your call, Wrath."

The passage of a week found them plunged headlong into uncharted territory in the science of automail.

It was strange, Wrath thought, how all the chaos, fear and loathing of the previous months could be washed away by the strange and relentless power of discovery. He had already understood what could happen when all-consuming passion was turned to ill purposes, but now he also understood that he was not immune to its call. He was very glad that their combined purpose was a noble one.

Periodically, Doctor Kagrevin would wander down and observe their efforts with considerable interest. More than a few times he delighted Winry and impressed Wrath by pointing out one or another obscure point of anatomy that would lead to new understanding and progress. It seemed that he became ever more enthusiastic with each breakthrough they made.

"So, you have already begun the construction! Remarkable!" he said in his bass Drachman accent, descending from the mansion above one afternoon. Wrath and Winry, surrounded by chalk boards covered in schematics and diagrams, crates of parts, wiring, and servo cables, paused from their work to regard Kagrevin as he strolled up to them, hands thrust nonchalantly in his trouser pockets.

On a large slab table in front of them rested a partially constructed automail skeleton, its wiring and servo cables exposed without any exterior shell to conceal them. In the chest cavity was a large containment chamber with hoses and other sub chambers buried behind it within the structure. All along the rear of the compartment and on up the spine were ports designed to accept interfaces with the spine and other organs. Kagrevin approached and examined the frame carefully, pushing his wire rimmed spectacles up his nose as he leaned over it for a closer look.

"Yes..._yes!_" he said quietly, his smile broadening, "This is perfect! With this one machine, you are about to revolutionize the science of automail...the world will never be the same when your creation is completed!"

Winry blushed, "We couldn't have come this far without your help...the design for the containment chamber is brilliant."

Wrath smiled, knocking on the outer casing of the chamber with a knuckle, "I have to say, it was pretty smart of you to think of using the preservative fluid from Archer's jar to stabilize the organs."

Kagrevin shrugged, "When such a remarkable substance falls into my lap, I could hardly fail to realize its potential, yes? The properties of this preservative fluid make it perfect for such an application...unlike formaldehyde which is of course highly toxic and destructive to living tissue, this fluid virtually eliminates all bacteriological function, while at the same time protecting living cells from any sort of damage. It will ensure that our dear friend Miss Portinari lives a long and happy life! But such a tiny contribution is nothing compared to this...this _masterpiece!_"

Winry was practically vibrating with excitement, "With access to all this funding and equipment, I've been able to do things I could only dream of before! Between that amazing new alloy Elisei provided and all these top shelf components, I've been able to shave the weight in half from a standard chassis and at the same time increase the strength and agility at least five times above my previous best work."

He laughed and smiled broadly in response, shrugging his shoulders, "Indeed! She tells me this metal she has given you is nearly indestructible! Perhaps this is...how is it said...overkill? For a kindly old lady, but perhaps we should not fault her for wishing to have so durable a body to replace the one that has proven so frail. I only hope that your beautiful work is not all in vain..."

Wrath glanced from the chassis to Kagrevin, "What do you mean?"

The lanky doctor shrugged and sighed, "Even if your body is perfect, there is still the matter of the surgery to consider! Such a thing has never even been conceived of in medical history...it is very likely to fail."

Wrath shook his head, "Don't worry about that, Doc. That's Portinari's risk to take. Just make sure you bring your best to the table, the rest is on her."

The smile returned to the Drachman's face and he moved toward them, slapping a hand on each of their shoulders, "You are right, of course! We must believe we can succeed. We shall soon toast to our success! I will leave you to your work, as I am sure I am growing tiresome with these interruptions."

Winry shook her head, tugging her gloves on again, "Not at all. It's nice to have a cheering section!"

Kagrevin shrugged and smiled, "You Amestrians and your sayings..." He turned on his heel and strolled back toward the stairs, "Don't work too hard, as they say! You will perhaps join me for vodka later, yes?"

Winry chuckled, "Maybe I'll just have a coffee, but Wrath might be persuaded."

A nonchalant wave over his shoulder as he vanished up the stairs was Kagrevin's only reply.

Their foreheads glowed with the sweat of their labours when they emerged from the basement an hour later. They strolled to the sitting room, chatting happily, and were met at the door by Kagrevin, who smiled broadly and ushered them in. They all sat in chairs surrounding the fire, settling into the lush cushions. Before long the butler entered carrying a tray with a bottle of vodka, two large shot glasses and a steaming cup of coffee. He offered the coffee to Winry, who accepted it with a warm smile, then set the tray on the side table next to Kagrevin, bowed and exited.

Kagrevin grasped the bottle and poured two generous shots into the two glasses, handing one to Wrath. "So," he began, "You are thinking that you can have the machine completed within two weeks?"

Winry took a sip, "Mmmm this is good...hmm, finished? I don't know about two weeks, I have to make sure everything is perfect. But it should be finished soon, definitely. I'd say we're over the worst of the hurdles at this point."

"Good, good!" Kagrevin said, his broad, good natured smile spreading across his face, "Of course, I know you cannot rush genius, but I am simply so excited to proceed!" He raised his glass, "_Z__a ha-syáj-koo é-ta-wa dó-ma__!_"

Wrath perked a brow, his glass upraised, "Huh?"

Kagrevin chuckled, "Forgive me; old habits, da? It means, 'To our hostess!'"

Wrath nodded, raising his glass with a smile before downing the cold, clear liquor. "Phew!" he said with a slight wince, "That's strong stuff!"

"This is the only sort you find in Drachma!" Kagrevin said, pouring two more shots, "There is much I dislike about my homeland, but this...this is not one of those things." He passed one to Wrath, clinked the glasses together and downed the shot.

Winry finished her coffee fairly quickly, not particularly wanting Wrath to get too many shots into the rather tall bottle on the table. "We should probably get going," she said, glancing at Wrath, who after his third shot was beginning to look just slightly rosy.

"Ah, this is so true! Forgive me for detaining you. You must hurry home so that you are rested for tomorrow."

They all stood up and Kagrevin stepped forward, grasping first Wrath's hand, then Winry's in an enthusiastic hand shake similar to the one he gave them on their first meeting. "I shall drink a few more in your honor, and wish you safe travels, until we meet again, friends!"

They smiled and waved as they departed, heading through the foyer. As they were about to exit, they heard a glass shatter in the fireplace and turned to see Kagrevin grasping the bottle and pouring another shot into the remaining glass. Wrath glanced at Winry with a smirk, "Drachman traditions?"

She shrugged and let out a chuckle, heading out the door.

The moon was high above the rooftops outside her window by the time Winry made it to her bed room. She stretched and yawned, running her fingers through her long hair and giving it a shake. The big four-poster bed looked extremely inviting, and with a contented smile she sank into it, pulling the covers up to her chin. She glanced at the window; she had left it open a crack to let in some crisp, fresh early spring air. She considered closing it, her mind rapidly drifting, but darkness and sleep closed in first.

There was an uneasy feeling. Her mind fluttered in and out of wakefulness, but something nagged at her consciousness, refusing to let her slip back into oblivion. Something wouldn't let her rest; a little sense of alarm buried somewhere in her brain, becoming more insistent with each passing moment. Something was wrong. She blinked, her sleep blurred vision adjusting to see the window framing the bright, pale moon, just as she'd left it...yet something wasn't right. It wasn't just as she left it...it was open wider.

She turned onto her back, looking toward the door, only she couldn't see the door. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart sank in horror as she realized there was a dark figure perched on the end of her bed, staring silently, malevolently at her.

"Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty..." came the quiet, effeminate and unspeakably cruel voice.

She felt a scream rising in her throat, but the instant she twitched a muscle, Envy's hand clamped viciously over her mouth, stifling it completely.

"Ah, ah! No screaming, please. We need to have a little chat...I can make you scream later, don't worry your pretty little head about that...hehe." Envy tightened his grip on her face, his other hand producing a long dagger that glinted in the stream of moonlight. As he leaned in, she saw seething hatred in his eyes and it made her blood run cold. She shivered, waiting for what might happen next.

"Now that I have your attention - dearest Wrath hasn't been coming out to play with me lately, and I am not happy about that. I think we both know what's been preoccupying him when he should be out playing our lovely little game of cat and mouse..."

Winry shook her head from side to side slightly, earning a painful tightening of Envy's grasp and the knife edge pressing into her cheek. "_You_," he said, his voice a low, malevolent, throaty growl, "Don't be modest...you know it's all _you, _as always..."

He titled his head, regarding her with a strange expression, half loathing and half appreciation, "Still...I can't deny why he finds you so intriguing...so captivating...I wonder what it would do to his little mind if I were to slice you into nice thin strips and plaster you all over this room...mmmmmm it would be delicious to see the look on his face when he saw that!"

Her eyes widened; her fingers slipped under her pillow as her eyes fixed on his. The hatred she saw there was horrifying, but it was all she could do in hopes of keeping his attention fixed long enough.

Suddenly, with all her strength, she whipped out the heavy wrench hidden under her pillow and smashed it across Envy's face. The wrench rang as the sickening crack of splintering bone mingled with the sound of rending flesh. Envy toppled off the bed in a heap, letting out a scream of rage and pain. Winry pounced to her feet, brandishing the wrench as Envy staggered up from the floor.

"_Damn__it, woman!_" he snarled, his smashed, blood dripping jaw regenerating itself back into place, "What kind of freak sleeps with a wrench?!"

Just then, the door burst open and Wrath rushed in, fists clenched. Envy took him by surprise with a vicious sucker punch, followed by a slash of his dagger that grazed Wrath's face. Blood spattered over the door and Wrath staggered back. Den came charging in after, barking and snarling, but a savage kick from Envy sent her flying across the room. She slammed against the far wall, then fell in a heap, whining and unable to stand.

In an instant, Envy sprang to the window sill. He paused, framed in the unearthly light, his mouth twisted into an appalling, malevolent grin, "I hope you like the gifts I left for you on your front doorstep...don't disappoint me again, Wrath...this game isn't over until I say it's over!" With that, he sprang from the window and vanished into the night.

Wrath dashed to the window, throwing it open and leaning out, but it was too late; Envy was nowhere in sight. He slammed his fist on the sill in frustration, snarling under his breath. He looked down as a drop of blood ran down his cheek and splashed on the back of his hand.

Griffith and Morgan were dead, sprawled in pools of their own blood, their throats slit, their bodies brutally slashed. Wrath sprang back into the room, a look of horror washing over his face as he looked at Winry in stunned silence. She stared back at him, her body faintly trembling as she grasped her wrench in both hands so tightly that her knuckles were ghost white.

"We need to go..._RIGHT NOW!_" Wrath said suddenly. He grabbed Winry and pulled her onto his back, "Hold on!" He ran to Den and scooped her up under his arm. With incredible strength and agility, he dashed full tilt to the window, leaping out of it at incredible speed. Winry opened her mouth to protest, but only a squeak came out as Wrath easily bounded across the front street, launched off a wall and began dashing at breakneck speed across the rooftops. It was all Winry could do to cling to him for dear life as they dashed, lunged and bounded across the city skyline.

"Where are we going!?" she shouted over the sound of the wind rushing past.

"Portinari's!"

"Why?!" she asked as he bounded over a ledge.

"It's pretty much the only place he doesn't know about...if we went to Mustang, Envy would just track us down eventually...he already got Jackson...besides, you've poured everything you've got into the project, I'm not about to abandon it." He dashed across a flat roof and launched himself off the other side.

Winry smiled a little in spite of herself, "Okay...good thinking."

He didn't stop running until he reached Portinari's mansion, bounding over the outer fence with the agility of an alley cat and dashing full tilt across the lawn and under the portico. On the porch, he set Winry and Den down and began pounding furiously on the door. It wasn't long before it opened to reveal a very drowsy and dishevelled looking Doctor Kagrevin. He rubbed his eyes and blinked hard, fishing in his pockets for his spectacles, without which his vision was apparently fairly bad. He was dressed in his trousers and waistcoat, though his shirt sleeves were rumpled and his collar was left unbuttoned.

He perched his glasses on his nose, then blinked a few times, his face showing his astonishment when he realized who it was, "My friends! What is wrong? What has happened? And why are you in your night clothes?"

Wrath, panting heavily, was suddenly struck with the terrible prospect of having to explain about Envy. His mind raced, trying to think of a convenient lie to cover the truth that was both dangerous and so fantastical as to be considered lunacy. "Please, we just need to get in!" he said, glancing around to be sure they weren't followed, "I can explain inside."

Kagrevin nodded, "Yes, yes of course, please come in!"

Within about five minutes, they were seated around a roaring fire in the study, along with Elisei, who had been awakened by the commotion of Wrath pounding on the front door. Kagrevin's face was all concern, and he wrung his hands slightly as he waited for Wrath's explanation. Elisei, clad as she was in her imperturbable mask, nonetheless showed her deep concern by leaning forward and gently touching Winry's knee. "It's okay, dear, you're safe here...please tell us what's happened."

Wrath and Winry, wrapped in blankets, sat opposite them. Winry glanced at Wrath, meeting his gaze with a look that said she would leave the explanation up to him; she wasn't about to be the one to give up his secret, if it came to that. Wrath smiled faintly at her, then turned back to Kagrevin and Portinari. "Well...I know this may seem strange to you, but I hope you can understand our feelings about this...I can't tell you everything, but what I can say is that Winry and I were involved in some...dangerous business having to do with Bradley's regime...it's nothing we have to be ashamed of, please believe me, but because of our involvement, there are certain people who want us dead. We thought we were safe living in Rush valley, but one of those people found us tonight..."

"That strange man you chased into the park, no doubt," Elisei said quietly.

Wrath glanced at her and nodded slowly, "Yes, him."

"Do you think he followed you here? Do you suppose he knows about this place?" she persisted, leaning forward in her wheelchair.

"No," Wrath said, sighing, "I don't think so...we've been extremely cautious about how we come here each day."

"Then you must stay in my mansion!" Elisei said, an air of finality in her voice.

Winry glanced at her, "We couldn't...we can't risk putting you and Doctor Kagrevin at risk."

"Please, call me Alexei!" Kagrevin said, his kind features all concern, "And I agree with Miss Portinari! You must stay here where this enemy cannot find you. In the meantime we must call the police!"

Wrath shook his head, "No! We can't involve the police. All I can tell you is that certain government forces are already working on the problem. I'm sorry to be so vague, but please trust me that it's for the best - for you and for us."

"Then it's settled!" Portinari said, "You will stay here as my dear guests until this awful storm blows over. My home is your home."

"For now," Kagrevin said, "The doctor prescribes first vodka, and then sleep for all! Except for me and Mr. Harrison, the butler...he and I shall take it in turns to sit up with a revolver, just to be certain. One cannot be too careful with these things, yes?"


End file.
